As a college student, I change locations a lot: home for breaks, in a house for the summer, and in my dorm room the rest of the year. That means my writing desk, my sacred space, my place of being, changes all the time.
At the moment, I’m living off campus. My room didn’t originally have a desk, but I fixed that right away by finding one in the basement and dragging it up two flights of stairs (and who says writers can’t lift?). I’m only living here for another month, so I didn’t jazz it up too much. All I really need is a chair and a lamp, and I’m good to go. The rest is up to the literary gods and goddesses that science hasn’t discovered yet.