Hmmm...there's the environment I would lust after and the one I know works.
What I wish would workA large, airy office, replete with lots of light, comfortable places to work or take break at. Wooden floor boards, carpets, interesting art works and curios, artefacts. Wide expanse of a desk and some sort of perfect chair yet to be invented. Coffee, snacks, nibbles. A whiteboard and flip chart for brain storming. A long leather couch for deliberating. Gigantic middle eastern lanterns and cushions to add an air of mystery to beguile the senses. A huge big window, at least one, preferably many, looking out over some sweeping vista. Sometimes a mountain view down upon the valley, sometimes a sea view out over the tropical nirvana I call home, sometimes a forest view into the ancient antipodean wonders that surround me. Raked ceiling soaring over head. Music floating about, not too loud or soft, and able to be psychically fit to mood to either inspire or drive creative forces.
The depressing reality of what I know worksThe less sensory input the better. No sweeping views, no comfy places to kick back, no music, no coffee and snacks to fiddle and procrastinate with. A laptop, usually in my lap. Writing as I sit on the bed, focused with frightening intensity until my head and fingers hurt at the same time. A view, anything picturesque, spells disaster. I can't help myself. I am a visual person. No distractions, no interruptions, no breaks. I can write in this way for hours - an entire day, stretch my aching muscles, and then most of the night.
No one said it had to be good writing.
What ensures it is acceptable writing is collaboration with other writers I have trust and regard for. At least one, no more than three. New ideas, new perspectives, brainstorming and story boarding. So I suppose I would add an itsy bitsy whiteboard to jot down the arc as we throw ideas about.