People are often curious about how I work and what I have next to me. Now the truth will be revealed.
I work in bed both in my places in Manhattan (pictured) and my beloved Upstate. I work in shorts and a t-shirt and underwear. I do not comb my hair well. Working in bed allows me to write more colloquially as I feel very much in my natural element. I also sleep in this bed, drink coffee in this bed and rage against the machine in this bed. In case you think I’m crazy, Proust wrote in bed and it helped him remember all kinds of crap. Why? Because one dreams in bed. See what I mean?
Next to me in bed, I have an emergency espresso maker, my little red book where I have marked all the appointments I have made out of bed, a coaster from a pretentious Berlin hotel, an extra watch in case I run out of time, an emergency loupe with which to examine the watch, lots of pens, an emergency flask in case things really go south, an emergency lighter in case another writer shows up with an emergency blunt and an all-important figurine of Dr. Snoopy taking care of Woodstock.
So that’s how I work! Talk to you soon, folks.
This goes against all sleep advice and yet it is lovely how it works for you.
I love everything about this. Especially the messy hair. I routinely paint in my pajamas. It’s key to my process.