Todays Helping ofChicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

A Room of One's Own

By Liah Kraft-Kristaine

Virginia Woolf's " A Room of One's Own " ignited me early on to look for

my

own special place of peace and solitude. My soul longed for the beauty of

some

land by a lake - where I could breathe in the scent of pine, listen to the

wind

in the trees, gaze at an expanse of gray-blue water and follow my dream of

writing full-time.

Eventually I followed my heart's desire, leaving a law career to write

books, and now the writing was almost paying for the groceries. Book sales

and

speaking engagements were beginning to grow, too. Spring was in the air,

and I

was bursting with moxie.

For a year, I had been making payments on a beautiful piece of land on

a

lake called Oconee. The land had been a miraculous gift - the price was

rock-

bottom because no one realized that it was lakefront property. I had

pitched a

tent there and loved sleeping on my own piece of paradise. But now, I was

ready

to move up. Without savings or the ability to get a mortgage, I was

nonetheless

determined to build a home, a place of my own.

But how? I knew absolutely no one in the entire county except the real

estate agent who had sold me the property. I didn't know a thing about

permits,

county laws or building. All I had was an intense thirst to create a nest.

I

collected names of carpenters from the local hardware store, made some calls

and

found two who were interested. We haggled about the hourly price - I had no

idea how this was supposed to be done.

From my sketched house plan, I estimated the amount of wood needed.

Then I

held my breath until it arrived, frightened that I had bought too much or

too

little. I dug holes, poured concrete, sawed wood for the walls and put my

new

hammer to use for 11 hours straight on the first day. Blisters soon seemed

a

natural part of the landscape of my hand.

As the building grew to its two-and-a-half story height, my joy was

mingled

with dread - I had an extreme fear of heights. But when the carpenters

needed

me on the scaffold for roof beams, I pushed away the nausea and did the

work.

No one else knew what I had conquered - my fear has never returned.

At the end of five full days, we had put on the roof. Even without

walls

or windows, it looked like a house that could protect me from at least the

rain.

So in a rush of exuberance, I moved my sleeping bag in with the lumber and

sawdust and sat alone with my awe, my satisfaction and my aching muscles.

Over many months, in every spare moment and with every spare dollar I

could

find, I completed walls and put in 27 windows, continually learning better

ways

to do things. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I obsessively plotted

and

planned my next moves. But what a lovely obsession.

Then I faced the big challenges of running water and electricity.

Since I

still couldn't afford to hire professionals, I bought books, studying them

for

months before I dared tackle a new project.

My initial work passed the county inspector's critical eye, but I knew

that

even he couldn't tell if the pipes would withstand the water pressure. The

moment finally came to turn the water on. If I had made any big mistakes, I

would have a flood inside the house.

After turning on the outside valve, I ran indoors to listen for the

dreaded

tap-tap of water dripping on wood. I inched my way along every wall. All

was

quiet. Ecstatic, I turned on the water in every sink and laughed out loud.

It

was a miracle to have running water for the first time in over a year of

building! And I knew every L- and T-connector in the place because I had

put in

all of them myself.

With writing assignments increasing, I found the cash to have the

septic

system and drywall installed by professionals. Three days before Easter -

one

year and eight months from the time I dug the first postholes - I completed

installing the last of the kitchen tile. My father and stepmother came for

Easter dinner, the first meal cooked in my tiny new oven, and we celebrated

the

all-important Certificate of Occupancy from the county inspector. As we

gazed

out onto the sparkling blue lake, with white dogwood petals gracing the

view, my

heart was so full I couldn't speak.

My dream and I have grown together. And just as I am a

work-in-progress,

so too is this house. My dream of a simple shelter has become a house with

a

gazebo and decks, where I can write and create. I have my nest, my place of

refuge and solace.

I've learned how to put anything together by seeing the dream in the

pieces. How to appreciate the smallest advances and conveniences. How to

persevere when no solution is in sight. How to build rather than to blame.

This adventure will color the rest of my life, as I dream new dreams and

begin

the building.