How To Make Your Workspace A Creative Space

In truth, creativity sparks wherever it will and hopefully you’re ready when it does. However, there are things one can do to transform their workspace in to a creative space to help entice your muse to come out of hiding.

I imagine that it will be different for everyone, however these are snapshots of my completed office and perhaps there are some elements you might like to incorporate in to your creative space.


One day I will have a Vintage Smith Corona typewriter here. Pink would be lovely. However, in the meantime, my computer works splendidly.

The creative office series.
Don’t be scared. This is Mictlantechutli, the Aztec God of the Underworld. His wife, Mictecacihuatl, is my muse. I found Mictlantechutli on Etsy by JBarnum. She does wonderful things with watercolor.

The creative office series.
On the bottom left hand corner is the surprise picture book that the Hubbs made for me. Hanging from the ceiling are poms made by Pom Love.

The creative office series.
Aww, my pin state artwork. Inspired by my vows, I created the artwork next to the pin state artwork as inspired by a pin on Pinterest. Wanna give it a go? See how it’s done by The Baby Blackbird.

The creative office series.
When you can, support local artists. Inside the now-closed Mandala Tea Room in Scottsdale I first saw Vikki Reed’s mandala artwork. It was for sale but out of my budget. She was at a meta-physical bookstore and selling giclee prints. Wooo! Those I could afford. I choose “Joy – Solar Plexus Chakra Mandala.” Check out Vikki’s watercolors.

The silver Chinese take-out boxes are left-over from my wedding. Before they held roses as the centerpiece for each table. Now they hold my colored pencils and crayons.

The creative office series.
The fishbowl was $2 from Goodwill and once home to a beautiful beta named Tobiko Masharu Morimoto Gojira. Or Tobiko for short. Now it’s home to three beautiful soft succulents — Peacock Echeveria, Aeonium Canariense and Aeonium Decorum. Learn how to make a tabletop terrarium.

The creative office series.
I love the Damask pattern — so elegant and striking. Within these magazine file holders I try to keep inspiration close and my work closer. In fact, I just got a three-year subscription to the Gettysburg Review because they are celebrating their 25 year anniversary and offering a substantial discount. Winning!

The creative office series.
Do you have artwork that you love but you’re appreciation of it is hard to share with others? This would be mine. I saw this figurine, a larger version, on a family vacation in the Dominican Republic and then sought a figurine of my own for years in tourist shops and speciality bookstores. Finally I found these two, a male and female (in my mind), with the solar plexus missing (just like the larger version) and I, well of course, had to have them.

The creative office series.
Awww, it’s a Zander! He’s one of my favorite distractions.

The creative office series.
The computer can often be a distraction. Better said, the Internet can be a distraction. Having a writer’s desk is a nice reprieve from Facebook and Pinterest. I got this former canary-yellow desk at a garage sale and with Hubbs’ help spray-painted it all white. Not too shabby, huh.

Oh, what’s that? I think my muse is calling me.  I must obey.

Martita signature

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My Relationship With My Dog

So, before you say anything, I did write as I said I would but I am just now blogging it. Enjoy!

Writing Prompt 2: A picture is more than a blank page. (Disagree!) Pick a photo from your photo album (in your phone) and meditate on how it makes you feel.

Our Relationship With Our Dogs

Zander My Siberian Husky

This is my boy, Zander. A Siberian Husky. One blue eye, one brown. This dog, as everyone knows, is my dog. My boy.

Penny, Our First Pup

Growing up we had Penny. Or was it that Penny had us; choose us. Pretty sure that dogs choose their owners and their pack, not the other way around. She certainly choose my father. A tangent:

My brother was maybe four of five years old and he had asked my mother for some “monies.” She gave him a jar of pennies. He took the pennies and bee-lined it to the quad that separated our townhouses to the park. But sitting in the quad was a man we’d not seen before in our neighborhood and his cardboard box. My brother met the stranger, with complete confidence of his actions, and put three pennies on the man’s thigh. He counted them: One. Two. Three. He then scooped down in to the cardboard box and picked up, incidentally, three-day old collie-boxer puppies. Three monies. Three dogs. It was simple math, really. Not sure if he thanked the man or just turned on his heel and headed home.

That’s where I came in. He still does this now, but my brother doesn’t ring the door bell once. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! I open the door to find him with three pups in his arms. I, being an older sister and a first born, think the worst. I’m sure I scowled him and took the dogs from him and returned them to the man in the quad. But we found him laughing; tears streaming down his cheeks.

The afternoon was spent with the, we learned, the brother of our neighbor and, more importantly, his unexpected puppies. I didn’t anticipate that we would get a dog that day and I recall mentally preparing myself that it wouldn’t happen. Dad got home from work and he scooped up one brown and white dog with an almost lightening bolt down her back. Her eyes were closed. Then she started to suckle on his shirt.

He was done. We named her, of course, Penny.

When Penny passed we were heartbroken. Non-dog owners couldn’t understand. I was convinced that we needed another dog and we rescued Holly.

Holly, Our Rebound Dog Or …?

Holly Our Whippet Greyhound Mutt

Look at that picture for a minute and tell me we didn’t need another dog. Could Holly replace Penny? No. But we needed a dog. And Holly, as quirky and unique as she is, needed us.

While Holly’s story may not be as adorable’s as Penny’s homecoming, her personality is all her own: How she scolds my father if he does not share his wasabi peas — and I’m talking actual growls and grumbles — how she jumps in to my parent’s bed when their is lightning and how she found a litermate with my brother. If he’s running around, which I know he still does, she’s chasing ’em.

Now I tell you that Holly is my mom’s dog. They have a connection and the family knows it now. Before it was always the question of when I would be taking “my” dog to Arizona.

Zander, My Boy

Nice roundabout but that brings us back to the first photo and the questions that sprung forth when I stare at it. Does Zander have eyes for me? Do dogs feel a kindred connection with humans? Their owners?

I’ve read arguments on both sides — about dogs that have protected their owners for no immediate gain on their part, dogs that mourn their owners when they pass but I also understand that dogs are biologically-wired to be our “best friend” so we’ll care and feed for them.

But when I look at this photo I should note that there is no food in my hand. His head is resting on Saskia’s tail and his eyes are looking straight at me — his own brown eye; his one blue eye. Its not a look of curiosity — they know too well my aptitude to stick my phone and its camera in their snouts.

Maybe its just contentment and he is saying “I see you.” And by I see you, I acknowledge your presence in my life. And maybe that’s as close to “I love you” as I’ll get. And I’ll take it.

I smother him enough for the both of us. And besides, I don’t think he minds as he knows a treat isn’t far behind.