Inspiration Station is an occasional series on ChiYAwriters.com highlighting the people, places, and works of art that inspire us as writers.
We all know that having a room of one’s own in which to write is a luxury for many writers. And even if you have that sacred writing space, sometimes it’s necessary to step out of your world and find a room with a new view to find a fresh perspective. For me, this is especially important when I find myself stuck on the page. On this blog, we highlight some of our favorite Chicago spots in our Finding the Write Place series—coffee shops and other public spaces where the muse finds us.
When I need to search for that elusive muse, I go to the library. Particularly, the newest library at my alma mater, the University of Chicago. (Only accessible to those with a U of C affiliation.)
To a lot of you, Mansueto Library is going to look familiar:
Yup. It’s part of Erudite Headquarters in the first Divergent film.
And, nope, I’m not plotting a coup, though Mansueto might be an excellent spot for that as well.
I’ve always loved writing at the library for the lighting, the quiet, and the soft hum from the air conditioning or heating or some mysterious white noise generator. Mansueto, opened in 2011—long after I graduated, has all 3 of those writing environment qualities I need. Also, you can have coffee at your desk.
I wrote and revised and edited a huge portion of my upcoming book, LOVE, HATE & OTHER FILTERS, at Mansueto. The University of Chicago has a small cameo in the book, but that’s not why I write at Mansueto. That light I mentioned as so important to me? Mansueto has it in abundance. Even on Chicago’s dreariest winter days, if there is any light to be had, I can find it at Mansueto. This is what it looks like when I enter the Grand Reading Room:
Even when I’m not writing about setting or weather, the quality of light is something I think a lot about when I write. Capturing the quality of light at different times of day, in different seasons, in different places—finding the right words to describe it is something I’ve often found elusive. It’s poetry, but it eludes me. In some ways, I guess light is a kind of muse for me. It presents me with a writing challenge. I love how it’s alive and how its character changes and how it can feel beautiful and soft, but also harsh and cruel. When I get to Mansueto early enough and can snag a table at the window, I can figure out my writing conundrums usually just staring out the window, not at my computer, watching the light play games and cast shadows out and across the lawn and gothic buildings.
Working at Mansueto helped me know the type of space I covet as a writer—the kind of space that doesn’t merely optimize my writing output, but a space that feels comfortable and inspiring. And where, if necessary, I can plan a hostile takeover of the other factions because I blame ignorance for the faults of human society.