【高中·阅读理解·A Room of One's Own】
For years I worked at the kitchen table. It was fine, I told myself — the light was good, the coffee was near.
Then a friend gave me a small desk and I moved it into the corner of the bedroom. Nothing else changed: same laptop, same chair, same work. Yet within a week I was writing twice as much.
The difference was not comfort. It was permission. A kitchen table belongs to everyone; a desk in the corner belongs to the work. When I sat down there, my family understood, without being told, that I was not available.
We often think we need more time or more discipline. Sometimes what we need is a door — or even just a corner that says, quietly, that what you are doing matters.

第 1 题：What happened after the writer got a desk?（　　）