Good Old Desk

The great songwriter Harry Nillson has a tune called Good Old Desk, which celebrates a piece of furniture whose chief virtue is that it doesn’t go anywhere:

My old desk
Does an arabesque
In the morning when I first arrive.
It's a pleasure to see
It's waiting there for me
To keep my hopes alive.

Perhaps this seems trivial. I assure you it is not. The song is actually a profound meditation on the importance of process. I could just as easily say “work,” but I like “process” better because it refers to a specific type of work – slow and diligent and purposeful. Not something you do once and you’re done. Process never ends. It’s always there, comforting and challenging in equal measure.

My good old desk was purchased at Big Lots nearly 20 years ago, back when I was a teacher in Albemarle, NC. It’s certainly no one’s idea of artisan furniture-craft. It wasn’t all that fancy when I got it, and it’s been moved and reassembled a lot. But it’s quite spacious underneath, since it’s really more of a kitchen table than a desk. Also, it’s level. As in, during my early morning writing time, when I put a laptop and coffee on it, they don’t slide off.

But more important than any physical characteristic is the simple fact that it’s there. Like Harry Nillson’s desk, mine too is reliably stationary. Every night when my head hits the pillow, I know my desk will be there in the morning. This is true whether the day that just ended has left me feeling great or feeling like shit.

Years of regular writing have taught me that it doesn’t matter how I feel. Up or down, happy, sad, or indifferent – if I just get up in the morning and sit down at my desk, if I submit myself to the process, I’ll settle into a groove. This doesn’t mean I’m going to get a lot done, or that what I produce will be any good. Questions of quality and productivity are beside the point. Focused work at the desk is a win. It’s a waste of time to be attached to any outcome beyond that.

Of course, a desk doesn’t have to be a desk. It’s wherever you encounter PROCESS. A backyard garden. Under the hood of a car. The squat rack at the gym. Sewing in your craft room. Your particular desk is wherever you go to engage in work that never ends, where there is no finish line, just improvement and engagement. Harry Nillson knew all about it.

When my heart’s on the floor
I just open the drawer
Of my favorite guest
And what do I see?
But a picture of me
Working at my good old desk.