Descend the stairs of our suburban basement, turn right to the closed door. Stop, take a look at the paper shadow firing target affixed to it. Note the number of piercings to the heart. I fired live rounds into the kill zone. The target is a souvenir from police from my earlier days on the crime beat.

OK, come on in.

My office walls are book lined, floor to ceiling with books on pine shelves that I made myself because too often I'd find that book shelves sold in stores were really not designed to showcase books. Mine are functional. Books fill them and cram every space.

There are also keepsakes from my trip to Kuwait's border with Iraq, shell casings found in the desert sands, a photo of my sitting on a Russian-made Iraqi tank.

Oh, yes, my desk takes up nearly half of the room.

I love it.

It was designed by Olle Lundberg of Sweden, he designed it for IKEA, so I have the desk combination left half-round with the birch veneer. My desk top holds my keyboard, my PC and my monitor and printer. The surface has calendars on which deadlines are marked in bright red. Underneath are storage tubs jammed with old manuscripts and newspapers bearing my stories from my days as a reporter.

My chair is a cushioned chair salvaged from an old news bureau on the Canadian prairies.

To my right is a window which gives me a view of the tall hedge dividing my yard and my neighbor's. To my left, all of my reference books are within easy reach, several dictionaries and works of classic literature.

Behind my 19-inch monitor is my laptop, which I take on with me for writing while on the road for book-related travel.

I have an old swivel rocker, adopted from a yard sale that has torn lining at the back but is so darn comfortable. After printing off a drafted chapter, I'll retreat to the old rocker and proofread. The worst thing about my office is clutter, too many stacks of papers teetering everywhere. I need to start cleaning up, I've misplaced too many important documents.

I usually rise at 4-4:30 am and come down and read over my work while waking up with a cup of coffee. Then I print off some notes and take them with me to read and work on while commuting on the bus to my day job. In the evening, I am back at my desk to take care of writing business matters. On the weekends I turn my notes into chapters and nudge my book along. At times my office can be a pleasant little word factory, while other times, it can be a torture chamber. But when I am deep into a book and the writing is white hot, I don't see the keyboard, or the monitor, I don't see the desk designed by Olle Lundberg of Sweden, I see the story. I am in it and doing the best I can to bring it to you, the reader.

SAY WHAT? Misused Words

confident - bold; presumptuous; marked by assurance.
    "Among these terrors, and the brood belonging to them, the Doctor walked with a steady head: confident in his power, cautiously persistent in his end..." 

confidant - one to whom secrets or private matters are disclosed.
    "Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of what is called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their troubles."

Stranger Than Fiction
(2006)

Written by:
Zach Helm

Starring:
Will Ferrell
Emma Thompson
Dustin Hoffman
Maggie Gyllenhaal

An IRS agent begins to hear
a popular novelist narrate
all aspects of his life.