My favorite part of the piece was when Norris bemoaned the lack of privacy for his “process.” Here’s the thing about writing -- you aren’t always writing. Sometimes you are washing dishes and begging (out loud) to the universe, “Then what? Then what? Then what?” Or in Norris’ words, “There may be calisthenics of my own invention.” I can just imagine his wife witnessing the calisthenics of his own invention and rolling her eyes. So funny!

When I was a freelancer, I usually worked at home (and home was generally a tiny one-bedroom). When Jack would wrap out of a show (he creates sets for reality TV), he’d be right there with me. He’d see the outfits (horrible, unflattering shmoopy sweats if I was under a particularly grueling deadline). He’d see the “research” phone calls to someone who might have insight on “this tricky character.” He’d see the volume of French fries that were inhaled. It was hard on my ego and harder on his eyes. Glad it isn’t my current day-to-day.

What about you? Could you deal if you and your spouse had to work and live in a single room?