by Rolf Denenborsch
As a former day laborer in the corporate world, I’ve recently decided to pursue a SuperOptimistic outlook. In my case, this has necessitated removing myself from active employment in order to pursue the calling of the fiction writer. You may say this is a foolhardy quest for a person of my age, height, and temperament, and I would not argue the point. But rereading Thoreau in the midst of another hand-wringing crisis over a TV spot for flavored mouthwash pushed me to take drastic action – or suffer the consequences of committing manslaughter on a chino-slacked middle manager from Unilever.
Needless to say, jumping out of the proverbial “frying pan” has been extremely liberating – but has necessitated some major revisions in terms of my spending habits. Goodbye, venti skim mochachino! So long, impulse purchase of new AudioSlave album! Farewell, middle of the week dinner at pricey Memphis-style smokehouse! In fact, to make the transition from a 6 figure salary, benefits, and health insurance to an income-free existence, these are just baby steps. For a real money saver, I’m planning to spend a lot of time in my car.
Certainly one of the main considerations is fiduciary. It is quite a shock to go from automatic deposits which cover the family’s expenses (did I mention I have a wife and child?) to having no income whatsoever. But the real kick in the pants is realizing I no longer have an office, which was thrown in for free! Given these realities, using the car that I already lease from the Honda Motor Corporation makes sense. Indeed, by not paying extra money out of pocket for an office, I will stretch my savings even farther, and be able to devote even more precious time to The Novel Which Thus Far Has No Name.
In case I sound too practical about this, there’s another rationale for transitioning to the AutoOffice (could this already be trademarked? Must look into it) that goes beyond mere dollars and sense. After living inside a corporate cubicle staring at the same beige room dividers for years, I’d like to have a view. Not of an air shaft, or another building, or the back of an account executive’s Louisiana Purchase-shaped head. But a real view with the works: trees, sky, vista, and why not throw in some water on top of that. And while I’m at it, why does it have to be the same view every day? Why not a moveable view, so to speak? What do they call it at Ikea? Modular. That’s it. I’d like an office with a modular view. A car provides for that. And don’t forget lots of light. No harsh tungsten bulbs for me. Only Vitamin D rich solar shine directly from the planet of fire (except when it’s really hot, and then I’ll park in the shade).
Additionally, I take comfort in the fact that people such as Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady spent lots of time writing in their cars. Look how much they got accomplished. Well, Kerouac did anyway. And Hunter Thompson? “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” was narrated from the front seat of a Cadillac, dubbed the “Great Red Shark”. I don’t know that he actually wrote the book there, but who am I to quibble over details? I’m a fiction writer, after all.
Thus, I’ve retreated to the one place I know I can find solace: the front seat of my 2002 Honda Element. The Element, as I am to understand, was designed to appeal to the demographic of teenagers and college students who like to go surfing and camping and occasionally sleep off a keg party in the back of their vehicles. Instead, the main purchasers of the Element are middle-aged baby boomers who wish they could go surfing or camping, but instead just drive it to the Stop and Shop and back.
There are some nifty features built into the Element that make it a very smart choice for the office of the working fiction writer. It’s sort of boxy inside, which gives you aa office-like feeling. The back seats fold all the way back for naps, or fold up altogether, in case you need the room for books, personal papers, or additional office furniture. But I’m not trying to sell you on an Element here (note to self: in case this fiction writing thing doesn’t work out, see if local Honda dealership needs help). Any car will do, so long as your limbs are not constricted and blood is able to flow freely to the legs and feet. Although we would never recommend purchasing an SUV given today’s gas prices and oil issues.
Once you’ve chosen the vehicle that will be your workplace, it’s time to outfit it with the essentials. I’ve taken the liberty of listing what I’ve put into my car, but feel free to add or subtract based on your needs, amount of cargo space, etc.
Sharpie – Big fat black pen to write large notes or signs on cardboard kept in the trunk. Pre-made signs like “I’m a writer who’s out of ideas and could use someone to talk to” can be stored for future use. Better to have them handy, than try to write one when you’re blocked.
Radio – Do you need satellite radio? Of course you do! And all 500 stations. I’d advise installing both XM and Sirius; you never know which will have the song that will spark your fevered imagination.
That day’s newspaper – Only in times of dire emergency do you want tot pick up the paper, however. Once opened, it can prevent you from accomplishing anything except comparing yourself to every successful person who doesn’t mind sitting in a cubicle for the rest of their lives in obeyance to the system which you’ve abandoned in favor of…sitting in your car.
No spare tire – Whatever you do, do not – repeat, do not – have a spare tire anywhere near your vehicle. Pain is good for a writer, and there’s no pain like that of blowing your left rear on the expressway at 2 a.m. Fear, also a useful tool in the writer’s arsenal, will be called upon when no one stops to assist you despite your blinking hazard lights.
All purpose “journal” – For “journaling” at those moments when you’re not officially “writing”.
Napsack – or rucksack, briefcase, grocery bag. Something to carry writing tools in during short hikes to coffee bars, bookstores, or park benches when the mood strikes.
Clock – optional.
Peanut butter, bread, gallon jug of water (distilled) – To sustain you when you’re “on fire” with an idea and don’t have time to stop for lunch. Or don’t have money for lunch. Either one.
At least 3 books – one fiction, one nonfiction, one spiritual. Also, a Strunk and White Elements of Style to prop up loose alternator.
CDs – See: radio. For space considerations, the fewer the better. Recommended: Boxed sets of Velvet Underground, Stax Volt, and Greatest Speeches of the 20th Century.
Umbrella – for the sun, not the rain. Writers love rain.
Case of Bottled Water (24 count) – Purchased from Costco, this could run you as little as $5.00.
Blanket and Pillow – preferably quilted, hypoallergenic.
Toiletries – disposable razor, toothbrush, hair gel, and q-tips.
Towel and Gym Membership card – for when you need a shower. And you’re closer to the gym than home. Maybe you want to work out too. That’s your business.
Gas-powered generator – Don’t want to run the battery down, now do ya? This is for cell phone recharge, laptops, and TV. You’re going to need power and plenty of it, unless you’re an electrical engineer and can jerry-rig a telephone pole to siphon off free juice. A McCulloch Generator — 11 HP, 5000 Watt, Model# FG5700 is as good as it gets. Features a 5 gallon fuel tank, so be sparing. Alternatives: solar panels, portable windmill.
While I sort out exactly how many years I will be able to pursue my folly before being hauled to debtor’s court, I remain practical-minded over apportioning my savings for the duration of writing the novel, which I’ve been advised by veterans in the field will take me at least two years, if ever, to complete. I sit in my car, writing this, knowing that at least I’ve bought a few extra months by not renting that studio above the podiatrist’s office for $650 a month.
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