The audio clip above is from the sunporch I’ve turned into my own personal writing studio. My family and I moved from our previous home in Riverview (on the outskirts of Tampa) to a new-old place in Carrollwood, one of the historic neighborhoods in the heart of Tampa. The commute to my workplace is shorter, the house itself is smaller (both boys are going off to college in short order, so who needs a big house), and the HOA headaches and zero lot lines are a thing of the past.

We traded all that for history, love, and beauty. As you probably heard in the audio, the new place (built in 1965) is surrounded by bird-filled oaks and magnolias. Their sounds infiltrate the sunporch writing studio every morning as I open the windows, turn on a couple of tower fans, and greet the day with words.

Having just returned from a month-long NEH-funded residency where I studied and wrote about one of my favorite Southern authors, Flannery O’Connor, I’m ready to get back to my usual routine. I loved sitting on the porch of Andalusia (Flannery’s home in Milledgeville, GA), writing poems from a rocker she herself may have written from long ago. But there’s something about abiding in one’s own space and observing personal rituals that helps foster productivity. I’m a fan of beginning the day with cognitive pursuits; geniuses like Frank Lloyd Wright endorse the practice, and I’m a morning person, so it works.

Some of you may have listened to all the birdsong and cicada noise in the audio and thought, “How does he concentrate with all that racket?” Answer: It’s never distracting when the sounds are from nature. At my previous home, my family and I contended with the exhaust-pipe roar of drag racers, the loud feuding of across-the-street neighbors, occasional gunshots, the ceaseless drone of lawn mowers, and the midnight cries of nearby young families’ infants. I may have had my own study at the old house, but to call it that would have been euphemistic at best.

When I compare that tiny square upstairs room to my present place, I have to roll my eyes and chuckle a little. I’ll take Old Florida over new development any day. I can hardly wait to see how this affects my poetry; stay tuned for updates, readers. There’s about to be a golden era of creativity.