How To Write Without A Desk

by Harley Bell

Tales of a digital nomad in the land of the long white cloud

Have you ever fantasied about writing anywhere in the world?

I have. I’ve always wanted to live the life of a nomadic writer. I pictured beaches, forests and cafes with an endless stream of consciousness flowing onto the page. 

I imagined that discipline would turn my adventures into books.

So, I packed the waka and decided to write my dreams into reality.

But reality has a way of revealing the truth beneath decisions.

These are the hard lessons of a digital nomad. This is how to write without a desk.

Routine on the horizon

“My life has been the poem I would have writ but I could not both live and utter it.” — Henry David Thoreau

There is a cognitive cost to constantly finding new places to sleep. New places to work. Research takes time. More time than you’d think. Where are the cheap eats? Who has the good coffee?

There is no falling back to the familiar. 

The same basic needs must be met every day. All this uncertainty in an unknown land can lead to decision fatigue. It’s the tiredness that comes from making constant, tiny decisions. This uses the energy that I would normally prioritize for work.

Habits change

Healthy habits are the benefit of staying somewhere with four walls for more than a few weeks. My diet takes a hit when I’m travelling. It’s no longer easy to cook. My kitchen used to be full of cues that reminded me to make healthy choices. So, I eat more takeaways.

I’m also an expert at getting in my own way. For example, many of the places I’ve been staying do not have a dedicated desk. The kitchen counter becomes a valuable working space. But this forces a confrontation with my nighttime self that forgets to wash the dishes. My mornings often lose and I spend valuable time cleaning when I should be working. So, I eat more takeaways.

Finding the right space

Real estate is a premium and price dictates decisions. Co-working spaces can be expensive. Accommodation more so. It can be difficult to find the ideal working environments without spending a small fortune.

On the cheap side of spaces, cafes can be unreliable. Some are great. Especially when you tuck up in a corner with a coffee and hook into the Wifi. But most don’t have an abundance of power points and tables.

Libraries have unpredictable internet. Plus, public spaces are prone to outbreaks of screaming children. This disrupts any chance of deep work. 

If I do find the perfect working space, there is no guarantee that it will be free the next day. This needs to be done all over again with each new town.

Working from home

The lifestyle comes with liberties though. I’m writing this while wearing a bathrobe. Which, I’ll admit, is a blessing and a curse. There is no style guide for freeballing writers like me. 

When I started travelling, I condensed my life down to a few suitcases. This meant putting my suits in storage. It didn’t make sense to bring them on the road. But I miss the self-confidence of a three piece. 

I’ve found that the ability to write from anywhere quickly descends into writing on the couch. Or in the shower. I used to dream of such opportunities. But now it just hurts my back.

The lifestyle of a digital nomad is dependent on the ability to travel

“I’ve never been so broke that I couldn’t leave town” — Jim Morrison

Engine problems are the traveler's bane. The lifestyle of a digital nomad is dependent on the ability to travel. This often relies on a vehicle. 

It’s easy to fall into the trap of getting a cheap vehicle. Inevitably things go wrong. Parts break. This can lead to some stressful situations. All totalled, replacing parts can be more expensive than buying a better vehicle in the first place. But it is easy to be forced into making bad decisions when cash is limited. As a poet, I’ve grown accustomed to this way of living.

Accountability

When I’m driven, I’m driven. But when I can’t be bothered there is no one to hold me accountable. It’s mostly fantastic being at the whims of my work ethic. But I lose days that I shouldn’t.

It’s also dangerous for a few reasons:
I’m an introverted writer that is more comfortable talking to a blank page than investing in community.
There are no colleagues sitting next to me. No swivel chair to check my work. 

These are things I took for granted in the city. 
I’m still figuring out the solutions to these problems. 
Shall we learn together?
 
 
Till next time,
Harley.