I don’t always write in the same place. Sometimes I write on the couch, other times I write at the kitchen table, or at my standup desk made from the scraps of an old TV dinner tray. Lately, maybe because it’s getting darker and chillier out, I’ve been writing from bed. This bed is a beast of comfort and refuge. I go here when the sun settles down, after a long working day, after concocting dinner, after folding laundry, after impromptu dance parties with my kiddo and our Boston Terrier pup, after story time, after banging out gloomy tunes on my keyboard, after traffic and school schlepping, after abdominal wall strengthening, after salt baths, I perch myself onto its many pillows and write until my eyes blaze red.
A stuffed nightstand containing an overambitious stack: The Collected Stories of Diane Williams, Assisted Living by Gary Lutz, The Gypsies by Jan Yoors, They and We Will Get Into Trouble For This by Anna Moschovakis, A Handbook of Disappearing Fate by Anne Boyer, Love in Abundance by Kathy Labriola, To Float in the Space Between by Terrrance Hayes, Baby Don’t Care by Chelsey Minnis, Summer by Karl Ove Knausgaard, Notes from the Fog by Ben Marcus, Sprawl by Danielle Dutton, and too many more to mention.
A lamp I picked up on Craigslist when I first moved to Portland in 2007.
Hamsa from a trip to Tunisia, way back when.
Meditation cushion with blanket. Most mornings, I meditate from my bed’s pillow perch, but these tools are there just in case I’m feeling especially vigorous (which is not often enough).
Candle, for fiery companionship.
Rhododendron bushes, powerlines, and neighbor’s domicile units just outside the window.
What’s not pictured:
More books. Wool socks on the floor. Towel hanging from the doorknob. A large mola tapestry from Colombia. A miniature painting from India. Painting of two chimps by my friend, Gary Wiseman. Collage by my dear friend and publisher, Kevin Sampsell. Two film cameras from the late 60’s (one Nikon, one Pentax). The rest of the house, its halls, rooms, art, and furnishings. A stocked refrigerator. 1/3 acre out back for blueberries and maybe a one day goat. Stars, the planets, exoplanets, dark matter, dark energy, more dust.
Low flying planes, crows, barking dogs, warbled guitar, and this playlist on repeat.
Felicity Fenton’s multidisciplinary work (social practice, photography, installation) has been featured in public and private spaces around the globe. Most recently, her stories and essays have been featured in WOBBY, Fanzine, Split Lip Press, Wigleaf, The Flexible Persona, and The Iowa Review (forthcoming). By day she works as a Creative Director and is also aRadio Host at Freeform Portland. She calls Portland, Oregon home sweet home.
Felicity’s book, User Not Found, published by Future Tense, will be released on November 30th. Preorders are available here.