Writing - and the National World War I Museum
This past Saturday was officially National Museum Day, sponsored by the Smithsonian. Tickets to many museums across the country were made available for free, and Diana took advantage of the offer and downloaded tickets for us to the National World War I Museum. The museum is local, and we've been there before. Not recently, however, so we decided to make an afternoon of it. It's not my intention to write a commercial for the museum, however.
I've found over the years that I'm very affected by my surroundings, especially when I write. I've got a great office here at home, well-equipped with four computers and a fairly massive library, as home libraries go. No matter, every now and then it's imperative that I get out of the office and find someplace else to work. Sometimes that's a coffee shop; sometimes it's the public library; sometimes its poolside at Ron's home. I just need the change of scenery. It energizes me.
To my surprise, the National World War I Museum had that same effect. Very powerfully. I carry at least a netbook computer with me almost everywhere I go these days, and had one with me there. I didn't take time to write, though. I just drank in everything I could.
One particular "display," however, really inspired me. There are two isolation booths at the museum. Inside the booths, one can listen to a fairly extensive selection of poetry, music, broadcasts and other audio experiences, choosing what one wants to hear at the touch of a button. There's a moderately comfortable padded bench and low lighting. I sat on that bench listening to the poetry of World War One with my eyes closed. Then the music. Even one of the broadcasts. It's a cliche to say that I felt transported, yet that's exactly how I felt. The booth became a time machine.
Now, I'm fairly obsessed with the desire to take my computer, pay the full twelve buck entry fee, go into one of those booths, boot up and just see what pours out. At an appropriate time, of course, when traffic through the museum would be low. I've actually had a story on my netbook for some months that I hadn't finished. It might be the perfect story to work on there.
I've found over the years that I'm very affected by my surroundings, especially when I write. I've got a great office here at home, well-equipped with four computers and a fairly massive library, as home libraries go. No matter, every now and then it's imperative that I get out of the office and find someplace else to work. Sometimes that's a coffee shop; sometimes it's the public library; sometimes its poolside at Ron's home. I just need the change of scenery. It energizes me.
To my surprise, the National World War I Museum had that same effect. Very powerfully. I carry at least a netbook computer with me almost everywhere I go these days, and had one with me there. I didn't take time to write, though. I just drank in everything I could.
One particular "display," however, really inspired me. There are two isolation booths at the museum. Inside the booths, one can listen to a fairly extensive selection of poetry, music, broadcasts and other audio experiences, choosing what one wants to hear at the touch of a button. There's a moderately comfortable padded bench and low lighting. I sat on that bench listening to the poetry of World War One with my eyes closed. Then the music. Even one of the broadcasts. It's a cliche to say that I felt transported, yet that's exactly how I felt. The booth became a time machine.
Now, I'm fairly obsessed with the desire to take my computer, pay the full twelve buck entry fee, go into one of those booths, boot up and just see what pours out. At an appropriate time, of course, when traffic through the museum would be low. I've actually had a story on my netbook for some months that I hadn't finished. It might be the perfect story to work on there.