This is a photo of Roald Dahl’s writing hut, which he named the Gipsy House. Sadly, my hut doesn’t quite look like this. Probably because I don’t have a hut. I want a hut. I’d love a hut. I could do some serious writing damage in a hut. But alas, I am hut-less. [For the record: I have never used the word “hut” so many times in succession.]
What’s most interesting to me is the fact that so many writers have an overwhelming desire to escape into a world of their own when their primary task (most of the time) is to write about the world. There aren’t many trades where you’re desperate to escape the world precisely so you can escape into it.
On that note, I’m going to build a hut. If only in my mind.