A Cobbled Together Space
When I decided to seriously pursue a writing career once it became clear that my career as a business accountant was over, I thought that I would become a bohemian, free spirit who would write in her PJs with her laptop precariously balanced on her lap.
Alas, it was not to be.
In my newfound (and much loved) career as a romantic suspense writer, I have discovered that I need a similar level of organisation around me as I did when I was crunching numbers for a living. It took me a little while to realise this—months of moving from the couch to the floor to my bed and back again—before I gave in and allowed my practical brain free rein.
When our family farm and feed paddocks were destroyed in the bushfires that burnt much of Australia at the end of 2019 and well into 2020, in which hundreds of head of our livestock perished as well, we were forced to move into a rental house while our property is being repaired. This means that where I write now, as I finish up my second romantic suspense novel, isn’t going to be my permanent office.
And, I thank the Lord for that… because my current space isn’t as far away from the noise of two teens, a blue heeler pup, Rainbow Lorikeet, elderly feline, and a UFC addicted husband as I might like.
In fact, my “office” space is set up at the opposite end of the family room where they all congregate in their free time.
Bless the creation of noise cancelling headphones.
Complete with a hand-me-down desk, an exorbitantly expensive, ergonomic desk chair that my beautiful husband splurged on for me when we could least afford it, a handmade footstool that my husband customised to my leg length, and my favourite offsider, Luna the Blue Heeler puppy, my space may be close enough for the never-ending shouts of “Mum” to reach my ears, but it is all mine. A perfectly organised, neat and tidy space where I come to make my second (but definitely my favourite) career dream come true.
And after the travails that have affected, not just my family, but thousands of others around my country in the past twelve months, I am immensely grateful for the cobbled together space where I write.
Zoe Hill is an Australian writer. Having found her niche spinning tales about love and villains—a trope she affectionately termed “Villainous Romance,” Zoe loves nothing better than typing all the words and consuming exorbitant amounts of coffee and Skittles while her teens are at school.
A country girl at heart, she is a rabid reader, a metal head, and UFC fanatic. When not writing, Zoe can be found chatting about plot bunnies with her menagerie of animals and musing out loud about how well she’s moonlighting as a competent wife and mother.