Just another day of coworking at Cruzioworks in Santa Cruz, Calif.
Just another day of coworking at Cruzioworks in Santa Cruz, Calif.

Just a few months ago, when I would find myself working at my kitchen table, unshowered and still in my pajamas at 4 p.m., the notion of querying ELLE Magazine with an essay on love gone toxic seemed impossible and really, quite laughable. In my new office space, flanked by a small population of entrepreneurs chasing dreams, it doesn't.  It might even be halfway written.

Or that's the hope, anyway, and the reason for this project.

On Jan. 1, 2013, I purchased a 24-hour pass to Cruzioworks, the less expensive of two coworking spaces in my current city of Santa Cruz, Calif.

(For those unfamiliar with the term coworking: It's like a gym membership, only instead of loping along on a treadmill in pursuit of a more toned physique, you sit — or stand — in a shared office, in pursuit of self-employed success.)

Sleek and airy, the coworking arena at Cruzioworks fills the ground floor of an old newspaper headquarters. A wall of windows reveals an amusing stream of pedestrians on their way downtown, or through the ever-revolving door of an adult pleasure shop across the street, where I imagine them perusing French ticklers and leather whips. "That one looks like it will leave some good welts, what do you say honey babe?"

sharing-economy-detail

In my new coworking space, the prehistoric printing press has been replaced by 30 or so well dressed geeks; designers, software engineers, and entrepreneurs with start-up dreams twinkling in their eyes -- like Joey Jelinek, 26, who wears a bandanna every day until he launches his company, "Chimpdig." There is also a built-in cafe, an array of desks and plush arm chairs, and a break room, home to the perpetually empty coffee pot.

If you haven't guessed by now, I am a freelance writer. I just turned 28. And I may be clinically insane.