A Quiet Place To Work

As a Freelance writer, I have a challenge. I bet I am not alone.

Even though I have a home office,  I have trouble turning off the phone and closing the door. Distractions rage. Facebook beckons. My cats fight upstairs. There's noise in the kitchen--what is that? The Zombie Racket of the Unclean thumps in my mind: my laundry, stairs that need sweeping, bills that need to be paid--

Noise, noise, noise. Internal and external. So I grab my laptop and car keys to find a quiet place to work.

The Coffee House

Some days, it's perfect. Not another soul in sight, and the music is reasonably low. Then a chattering group of people come in, greet each other with cheerful noise and make small talk, just loud enough to pull my focus. I fight with it for a while, then I pack up. I begin to understand the Grinch, and just want to escape the Whos down in Whoville...

The Library

Libraries used to be a mecca of enforced layered silence. Librarians were guardians of quiet, frowning at the sound of a pencil dropping on carpet. Whispers were tolerated, but only if there was a fire.

Now libraries create programs. I understand the need. Without numbers, libraries lose their funding. But just try to find a quiet space in most libraries anymore. A few have actual silent rooms, glassed off and highly booked. Most just don't have the space and have become central meeting places.

Cell phones ring, and people answer them, chatting about their latest drama. Toddlers scream. A woman reads out loud to a group of barely attentive kids who cry and yak, and mothers try to corral the chaos. A bank of computers has an army of loud typists, printers crank and whine in corners. I leave again.

Escape To The Outside

The summer has been hot, but there is some shade. There is no place to plug in my laptop at the local park, but it's fairly quiet and I have battery power. Half of the picnic table is sticky with some unknown goop, and hornets buzz, but it's at the other end of a six foot span so I take my chances. It works until a bunch of softballers show up, followed by a team of loud, profane teenagers. I am beginning to realize that the problem is two-fold. Part of it is the world. It's gotten noisier. The bigger problem is me. I have too much noise in my head, and I am not good at shutting it out anymore.

Prowling Before Dawn

My grandmother used to wake up in the wee hours, and wander through the dark house, never turning on a light. She'd finally sit alone at her front window, watching for the newspaper delivery or lights on across the street. I thought she was a little crazy. She actually was, but not so much in this regard. I am now writing this at 5:00 AM, after waking full on at 4:00, unable to fall back asleep. The house is completely silent. I've taken advantage of this lovely time of day before. My mind is calm, and I know the phone won't be ringing. The cats are asleep. What little traffic there is holds the same conspiracy of quiet. We appreciate each other.

Finding Silence Inside

I need to learn to find dawn at noon, learn to stop being so available, shut off the phone and shut out the racket. As a mother, I think I've been programmed to respond to every noise. It's what we do. But maybe true quiet is gained when we seek the quiet before sunrise--even in the middle of the day.