How a €40 IKEA Desk Ended Up Helping Me Write More Consistently
How a €40 IKEA Desk Ended Up Helping Me Write More Consistently
Inner Pages: Letters From Ali Baran Y.
April 2, 2025
A Page from This Week
For quite some time, I had been using the living room table for everything except eating proper meals. It was an unbearably uncomfortable glass surface that offered no sense of ease or stability. Yet, I used it for studying, writing, working… everything that would have required a proper desk. It wasn’t something I chose; it was simply there when I moved in. And sure, I pushed that poor table to its limits. It was never meant for focus or deep work. It was meant for gathering. For friends, for food, for idle talk over wine — you name it.
Meanwhile, the constant back-and-forth between my room and the living room made things worse. I kept forgetting where I left my tools. The flat spiraled into disarray. Nothing had a place, and everything felt scattered.
At some point, I realized: I needed space. Not just physical, but mental. A quiet corner that was mine. My table, my chair, my light. A place where I didn’t have to wipe away the day just to begin another one.
So I decided to create my own cozy corner. A space that would allow me to focus, to breathe, to center myself. In truth, I wanted a cocoon. A small, quiet world woven with the comfort I longed for.
My flat isn't particularly big, but I wouldn't call it small either. What’s peculiar is how perfectly everything fits. I’m convinced the owner either worked with an interior designer or was a carpenter himself. Each piece of furniture seems made for where it stands. Nothing feels out of place. You wouldn’t want to move anything and believe me, I tried. I reshuffled, reorganized, reimagined... but nothing ever improved the layout. It was as if the flat knew better.
So I turned to the only corner left untouched, a quiet little gap with just enough space to become something. It wasn’t much, but it could work. I planned a little IKEA tour, and as always, spent far more than I intended. But then, there it was: my table, my chair, and even a little bookshelf nestled beside them.
I couldn’t help myself, so I bought new bedsheets, fresh pillows. For the first time, I had things that were truly mine. A space shaped by me, for me. My place. My space.
Alright, maybe it's just a desk, a cheap chair, and a wobbly bookshelf. Nothing that deserves this much sentiment. But the effect this little corner has had on my life? Honestly, it’s been profound.
There’s a quiet joy I feel when I sit here doing whatever I want to do. Writing. Thinking. Watching the trees and the storks outside my window. Focusing has become easier. Finding —or in my case, creating— my space, my corner, has helped me more than I could have imagined.
My close friends would probably laugh in my face if I told them: yes, I’m launching a newsletter. Yes, I’ll write every week. And yes, I’m working on little pieces of fiction, too. They wouldn’t believe me. To be fair, neither would I. But ever since I claimed this small space as mine, I’ve been able to do all of it.
So, I’d like to take a moment to thank you — the readers of Inner Pages. Thanks to your support, I somehow ended up getting listed as #4 in fiction on Substack’s rising list. I’m still half-convinced it was a bug, or maybe just one kind editor taking pity on me. However it happened, it made me so happy.
Thank you to everyone who reads, supports, likes, and writes back. It sure does mean a lot.
I recently finished reading Snow by Orhan Pamuk, and to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy the way the story unfolded. At times, it even made me feel a bit uneasy. This week, I’m leaning toward something with a lighter theme.
Snow delved into poverty, radical religious fanaticism, and young women struggling with suicidal thoughts. It was heavy, and emotionally draining at times. So I’ve just started reading Eden Summer by Liz Flanagan. It’s about a missing high school girl and her best friend—at least that’s what I’ve gathered so far from the first 20 pages. I actually bought it almost a year ago through the Vinted app, so I figured it’s finally time to give it a proper read!
I’m also planning to read a sneak peek from a novel written by my online friend Ender, whom I met through the self-polyglot community. I’m really excited about it—the theme sounds brilliant. Thank you so much, Ender, for letting me read it and for always replying to my newsletter every week. Your support means a lot!
This week, I discovered Joni Mitchell thanks to Ender again. He recommended her album Blue after reading my last newsletter, where I shared that I’d been feeling a bit blue myself. I really enjoyed the album. It’s the kind of music that makes a perfect companion while writing. It calmed me down and it felt like a lullaby from an elder lady, gently watching over me.
Notes to Self
I’ve put the idea of selling a physical copy of the zine—something I mentioned two weeks ago—on hold for now. I didn’t quite feel like I had the economic or mental energy to take that step. I also realized that I need more time to learn about riso printing and to actually experiment with it. So I’m moving slowly, and one day, I’ll get there.
I’ve made some progress with Desponia’s short story. It’s actually starting to head in a direction I like. Sometimes I sit down and wonder if it’s becoming too simple or even silly, but deep down, I enjoy it. The story will be in three parts. I’ve already shared the first part before. I’m planning to publish the second part around mid-April on Substack.
Just a little heads-up: my short stories will become paid subscriber-only three days after they’re published. Just letting you know if you’d like to read them for free (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)
Have you read the first part of Desponia's story?
That’s it for this week—thank you for spending a little time with Inner Pages. It means the world that you’re here, reading these words. If something in this letter resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—just hit reply.
If you enjoyed this, consider forwarding it to a friend who might like it too. Sharing keeps this little space alive and growing. And if you’d like to support my work in other ways, you can buy me a coffee or simply keep reading—that’s more than enough.
Until next time, keep wandering.
Ali Baran Y.