Sharitah Kachwendu | Author

Every writer has a dream writing space—quiet, beautiful, inspiring.
Mine exists too… just not in real life.

The Ideal Writing Environment

In my perfect world, writing begins under a sky that isn’t loud.

Daytime would have grey like moist space—never stormy, just quietly promising rain. The air would carry a soft wind, the kind that brushes past your skin instead of fighting with trees.

The sun would exist, in an everlasting sunrise till night. No harsh noon, no burning rays—just that golden, forgiving glow that makes everything feel possible.

My writing space would sit on a hill, overlooking an open, endless view. Silence would have something like a stream or lazy river , its soft rhythm steadying every scattered thought.

Gentle instrumental music would play—not to distract. It would play in the background, like a companion that understands when to speak and when to disappear.

Breaks wouldn’t feel like interruptions. I’d step outside, let that soft sunlight settle on my skin, breathe in the cool air, and return—reset, not restless.

And at night, the room would transform.

Wide glass windows would frame the sky like a painting. When the words stop flowing, I’d simply look up—watching the stars stretch across the darkness. No pressure. No noise. Just space to think, to feel, to begin again.

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The Reality of My Writing Space

Reality, however, tells a very different story.

Writing is not the only thing I have to do.

There are responsibilities pulling me in different directions. There’s always something waiting—something that needs to be done before I can “earn” the time to write. And even when I do write, there’s another layer: promoting my books. Marketing, visibility, competing with countless other authors—it’s a job on its own.

Creativity doesn’t just flow freely. It has to fight for space.

My environment is loud. Not the peaceful kind of noise, but the kind that interrupts thoughts halfway through a sentence. I’m surrounded by houses, not hills. There’s no stream, no open view—just constant activity.

Ideas come… and then disappear.

Interrupted by reminders, responsibilities, and the pressure of everything else I need to do.

By the time night comes, I’m exhausted. The mind that once wanted to create is now asking for rest. So I sleep, telling myself I’ll write later.

But “later” doesn’t always come.

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Where Writing Actually Happens

And yet… I still write.

Writing in imperfect spaces has shaped the kind of stories I tell—ones filled with emotion, tension, and the quiet persistence of the human spirit.

That same energy lives inside my book, The Aislinn Foreordain—a story born not from perfect conditions, but from showing up even when everything felt uncertain.

If you enjoy reflective, emotionally-driven writing, you might find a piece of that journey within its pages.

Because I’ve found something unexpected—the quiet doesn’t come from the environment. It comes from timing.

Very early mornings.

Before the world fully wakes up, before the noise begins, before responsibilities start calling my name—there’s a small window of peace.

That’s where my writing lives.

No perfect hill. No endless sunrise. No stream in the background.

Just silence… and a decision to show up.

If you’re also trying to write in an imperfect space, you’re not alone.
Tell me—what does your ideal writing environment look like? And what’s your reality?