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A Room Where the Soul can Live.
One of My Stories / August 11, 2016

Every since 1929, female writers all over the world have been chanting a sentence of Virginia Woolf’s like it was  a mantra.  Agree or disagree, ever she-scribbler knows the quote:  In order for a woman to write fiction she must have two things, certainly: a room of her own (with key and lock) and enough money to support herself. (Truth be told, I’ll bet a lot of male writers echo the sentiment but apply it to themselves.  Privacy and financial security are woefully lacking these days for those who craft belle-lettres.) As for me, I created that room in my imagination around the time I was 12.  I was reading an exercise in a self-help book my mom had borrowed (It was the 70’s and the adult world was awash in self-help books) that suggested the reader construct an imaginary place equipped with everything needed to be that person’s spiritual and physical retreat.  It was the reader’s famous “happy place” and, once constructed by the mind, it could be accessed whenever needed.  Well, of course I started imagining mine. What did it look like?  It was a spot for someone addicted to reading and writing. Books by the hundreds, books…