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The Importance of a Desk

Here's my ideal study: dark wood, towering bookshelves, dust motes floating in the sunbeams, the peculiar smell of the library's top floor in the summer. And, of course, a strict disciplinarian behind the desk, ready to deliver a stern correction.

Here's what Esquire has: a minimalist white table tucked into the corner of our bedroom, the surface taken up entirely by his laptop and monitor.

I can only imagine what kind of motivation it would give me to have the right kind of desk in the house. If we had my dream study, we could easily fit a little school desk in the room so that Esquire could keep an eye on me while I work. As it stands, my writing process consists of the following:

  • Wake up determined to get some writing done

  • Drink coffee and read the news

  • Browse Reddit

  • Browse Twitter

  • Sit by the pool with a gin and tonic

  • Read my book

  • Plan and cook dinner

  • Write 500 words

But if I were working under Esquire's watchful eye, I'd have to get something done before playing around. I actually have a quite detailed fantasy about that (which I often daydream about when I should be writing!). In my fantasy, Esquire would set a word count for the day, and then he would set a timer. On days where I'm having an awfully hard time focusing, I imagine it set for every fifteen minutes. On other days, every half hour. I would have to work diligently until the timer went off and then, if I had failed to reach my word count, Esquire would bend me over his desk, lift my skirt, and paddle my bottom. He would scold me for being unfocused during my work time.

"Having a sore behind will help you remember to stay on task," he'd say. Or, "Lazy girls get their bottoms spanked for daydreaming when they should be working."

And I'd end up there over his desk, with my chest flat against the surface and my bottom sticking out, ready to get paddled, every single time the alarm went off, until I finished my word count.

The goal wouldn't be to avoid getting spanked altogether--that would be impossible. But after having to sit back down on a sore bottom once or twice, I bet I'd be working as hard as I could to get my writing finished before the next spanking...

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