I am building a shed in my woods. When I am done, it will be a place to hide from the world and write. Meanwhile, the noise of construction cannot be hidden. It carries well beyond my property and attracts the curious.
Ever so often I hear a shuffling on my gravel path and moments later a neighbor materializes out of the trees.
“What you building?” they ask.
The question always throws me.
I see a floor. I see framing for walls. I see bare rafters. I ask them what they see?
They shrug.
It raises doubts about my project.
“It started out as a shed,” I tell them, “but after all the rain we got in June, I decided to build an ark.” My little joke always falls flat. They know me but not that well. For all they know, I am building an ark.
“Where’s the door,” they ask.
Again the question throws me. Again the self doubt.
The rough framing for a front door is right there. Why can’t they see it? I point to the opening.
“No,” they say, “the DOOR.”
“That’s it,” I insist.
They tilt their head one way then the other. They appraise the door from several angles. I know what they are thinking.
“It’s not an equipment shed,” I tell them. “The door is for people, not tractors.”
“Then what kind of shed is it?”
I know better than to say a writing shed. That would set me too far apart.
“It’s a man-hut,” I say.
Their faces light up. Now they are jealous but at least they understand because building a man-hut deep in the woods is entirely understandable.
In this part of the country, houses remain the province of women. No, we don’t live in a time-warp. Most local women work outside the home and off the farm. In fact, most farmers work off the farm. Still, that aspect of the past lingers. Women rule the roost and while guys are welcome in the house, they are not comfortable there. They belong in the machine shop, barn, garage or the shed.
Everyone understands this.
“So, you’re building an ark, eh?” They chuckle. Now that it is clear what the structure is, it is also safe to laugh at my little joke.
“Yup,” I say.
“But what the hell is that?”
“What?” I ask.
“That?” they say, pointing at some detail of construction.
Everyone indicates something different. Some don’t like my choice of skids over footings, others prefer nails to screws, while others can’t get past a minor flaw.
One guy asks, “Where’s the spacers?”
“I’m not using them,” I say.
“You’re not using spacers?”
Spacers are little metal clips inserted between the wooden sheets that cover a roof. Not using them really bothers him.
”It’s gonna collapse,” he prophesies.
“No, it ain’t,” another guy says. He goes on to explain how builders employ tricks to compensate for flimsy materials. Spacers are something they use to firm up cheap OSB plywood.
This ignites an argument.
“I worked construction for a year and that’s the way we always did it,” the first guy says.
“Yeah, and who did you work for? Balsa-wood Builders Inc?” accuses the second.
The argument rages on into the night.
The next day, someone says, “I hear your roof collapsed. You should have used spacers.”
What is it about my shed that evokes tribal instincts? I am not sure. Maybe it is working in the shade of ancient oaks. Maybe it is the notion of a man-cave, a place to be apart from the world. But whatever it is, everyone finds something to harp about.
It is not that they are unkind or overly opinionated, far from it. It’s more that I am out there, alone in the woods, making noise with a hammer and saw. It is an irresistible lure to participate. Even if just to give advice.
In all things, advice tracks two ways: one focuses on problems or a better way of doing something, the other isn’t advice at all, rather it’s just someone stamping their imprint on your work.
I always welcome critique but people have to understand the work is mine, not theirs.
As for flaws, I take them in stride. If I wanted perfection I would have hired a perfectionist. This way, the mistakes are mine and they give the place character – my character.
Almost Iowa 
I’m just grinning. When I started building my blog, I got the same sorts of advice. Finally, I decided to live by the precept: My Blog, My Rules. I’ll take as much or as little space as i want. And I don’t think I need spacers.
I am seriously jealous that you have a writing shed. You final paragraph rates as pure perfection.
A great neighborly post seeing as your neighbors are all over it. Oh No I use commas everywhere and this is my first try at using No Commas. Very strange very strange! Christine
🙂
Yes I remember this one and I like it even better today because of the no commas comment and I just deleted the comma I had after “yes.” I feel so free.
I do get carried away with commas. I put them in whenever I pause and I guess I pause a lot. 🙂
Reblogged this on Almost Iowa and commented:
Five years ago, I built a hut in my woods. In the process, I learned a thing or two about advice.
Here is mine:
http://katlnhatwrites.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/i-need-advice/
I did not start it yet, but I will, as I need a LOT of advice.
Where do we post the links to what we’ve written for each prompt? Here (all of them), or on the individual editor’s blog? (which is where I’ve been putting them) See, I need advice.
It’s best to put them on the Writing Essential blog but it works either way.
I started writing a response to this prompt. Might even post it.
You did and you inspired me to write about septic systems.
I believe in Shipping High In Transit.
As a wise man once said, “How long can you tread water?”
It’s what God asked Noah. It took me a while to recall.
You got it.
Didn’t someone say something about how you should have slanted the roof and you ignored it?
No, the roof is at a 45 degree angle. Enough to shed the deepest stickiest snow…. and by gosh, we got that.
Excellent description of flaws. Most if the time, you are the only one who will notice the extra character. Your neighbors will rag you on what you got right.
Ain’t that the truth. I can not pass a certain doorway in our house with noting how I failed to get the threshold aligned correctly.
Our writers group meets in a library and we discussed commas, but I wonder if we might have been discussing spacers too. Enjoyed this piece. And perfection can be boringly predictable.
Although you didn’t ask for it, I am going to give you my advice on commas. There are far too many of them. People should only employ commas when under threat from an editor.
I came by this opinion after a life of comma abuse. I used them every where. I separated my given name from my surname with commas, I put commas in titles. I coated my work with commas the way a kid covers his pancakes with syrup.
Now that I am reformed. I never use a comma. See. Right there. I was tempted to use a comma but I didn’t.
Oh. Oh. I spotted a comma in my last comment. See how easy it is to slip into the old ways?
Absolutely no one or any tutorial agrees on those nasty little things.
Great story! I love the idea of a man cave/shed/writing haven! Plus, who needs spacers? They’re for wimps, man. To write Fleetwood Mac, you gotta “go your own way!” Advice…pffft.
That was to QUOTE Fleetwood… Sheesh. This tablet hates me.
To be hated by a tablet is a measure of your humanity… stand proud.
Nice one – great story Sir.
Thanks Mike!
Some people like to give advice just to show off. I love your story, especially the ending.
“Some people like to give advice just to show off.”
They do it because they know everything and living in a rural area, you meet people who literally know everything. Farmers have to depend on no one but themselves.