In my living room, mostly. Sometimes locked in my office, crying for no reason during my lunch break.
I kind of hit a pandemic wall, like many others.
In the summer, I was writing like crazy. Even in November and December, when my work was picking up, I found time to write. But for the last couple of months, I just couldn't bring myself to even look at my dumb stories. I'd come home from work and play Crusader Kings for hours instead (I've been through the middle ages three times now, building empire after empire--so soothing).
But now the weather is getting sunnier and I think (hope) we're done with the early-spring snow. I'm fully vaccinated. Some decisions that had been paralyzing me are moving forward (moving back to my hometown after ten years, buying a house in a stupid seller's market, finding a new job, etc.)
I sat down at my computer this weekend and out came a new interactive fiction story. I'm working on a regular narrative, too, but it's slow going. Everything I put down on the page just seems stupid to me.
It's coming back, though. I hope to put up new stories more regularly soon!