I've borrowed an old laptop from my work and have it set up here in my office. I haven't had anything back here since my old CPU died almost a year ago.
We have our laptop and now the tablet but I have found that I don't necessarily enjoy writing on either. The laptop doesn't have a comfortable keyboard (I think it sits too high and the keyboard feels squishy) and I really don't have the eyesight required for touch screen.
But this is a laptop that is similar to my very first one and it's like coming home. Also, it's at my desk instead of balanced on my lap or sitting at the dining table. It's just a better environment for writing, for me. I don't think I'm one of those writers that can go to Starbucks or the park and crank out chapters and postings. Right now I'm facing a wall so there isn't a thousand distractions, there isn't a television and it's quieter sort of. (I can hear the family comings and goings and if Kevin is home...well, I can always hear him)
A bonus is that the puppy will lay back here quietly, unlike anywhere else in this house. In here she doesn't chew or jump on the bed or drag all of her toys and blankets out. (Yes, she's very busy being a puppy) Right now she's stretched out and sleeping nearly to the point of snoring.
I've had a story formulating in my head for way too long. I need to get it out to make more room on my brain's hard drive. I feel badly for ignoring "Shane" and the woman's character that I've yet not named. I have the finished novel and an unfinished novel that I just lost the thread of the story. I'm sure if I made an effort, I could pick it back up. I could send the finished one out again to see what happens.
But there's just always something going on. Work, broken bones and pain meds that allow nonsense, and just the general goings-on of life. One can always find a reason NOT to write, it's ignoring those reasons.
Also, I just feel like if I start up writing for reals again, I won't be able to stop. I'll be annoyed that I have to go to work, answer the phone, feed the puppy, etc. I'm sure there is a balance that I would find but for right now, it's been a significant tumbling block.
Because for me, it becomes like another life. It lives in my head and plays in the background while I'm trying to live my actual life. It's not unlike being schizophrenic, I'm sure. I just need to get over myself.
Oh god, the puppy has awoken and figured out how to duck under the curtain to look outside. So much for no distractions. See? there is always a reason.