… I brought only what I could carry: a suitcase of clothes, a few books to read and reread and whose margins I filled: Don DeLillo’s Underworld; T.C. Boyle’s Drop City; Marilynne Robinson’s Housekeeping. There were others, but it was these that accompanied me to the kitchen table every morning.
A kitchen table is a clean and distraction-free surface. Its simplicity is its advantage. (The disadvantage is that five to eight hours in a kitchen chair does hell to your back.) The Bearsville House from years ago had one more quirk which made it my favorite of the 17. Folded in the mountains there was no cellular service, and through the months I wrote there, no Internet. Connection with the outside world had only two possible outlets: a spotty landline, and the slower more antiquated form of communication: writing a novel.
The solitude was tremendous; the fridge was stocked; the work got done.
— Read on lithub.com/how-to-live-cheaply-and-finish-your-novel/