My husband has offered to buy me a new one, I've even had a neighbor offer me one that they couldn't use anymore because as you can see, it's a little on the worn side.
I can't seem to bring myself to replace it. There's just something about this chair. It's comfy. It's familiar. It knows me and my moods. It tips back and rocks a bit, so when I'm deep in thought or working out a plot problem, I can kick back and rock and think. It's the perfect height for me and is soft like a pillow. I can even sit sideways in it and drape a foot over the arm for those times when I've got a deadline and I'm sitting in this chair for hours and need a different position.
For me, a writer's chair is an important chair, an important part of a writer's support system. You can't just have any old chair for a writer because it's there for all kinds of moments. My chair has seen over half of my writing career.
- This chair supported me (since I was sitting in it) when I found out I was accepted by a publisher and nominated for different writing awards.
- This chair has seen the blood, sweat, and tears of doing edits and being up against deadlines. (And yes, I mopped up any and all spills off the chair.)
- This chair has held me while I slept at my desk after one too many long nights. (At least until my husband came to see what I was doing.)
- This chair has heard all my laughs and sighs as I've written scene after scene and been there every time I've written The End. It even provided the little swivel of celebration for that moment. (Who doesn't love the swivel?)
It has been the perfect writer's chair for me.
So, even though it's tattered and worn, and has definitely seen better days, I know this chair will be there until it can't support me anymore. And I will let it. For the love of a writer's chair.
All I can say, is thank heavens for the perfect writer's chair. *swivel*