I love talking to other writers about the way they go about this insane profession of ours. Perhaps it’s because we spend so much time alone, or perhaps it’s just that I have a fetish for writing implements… So every so often I’ll give you a glimpse of my life as a scrivener.
I’ve been lucky enough, for the past two years, to have my own writing room. I’ve craved a study for ever, but it’s only the generosity of my wife, Rhonda (who is also a writer) and the fact that our two boys prefer to share a room that I’ve been able to have one. Prior to that I used to have a desk in the living room of the one-bedroom flat in London I used to own or I’ve worked in bedrooms and kitchens – pretty much what most writers do. But having a study is bliss. I’ve got my books in there, and a beautiful glass-topped desk, and all the little drawers and cupboards and tins of secrets and notes and junk that I like to have around me.
From my window I have a view of the terraced houses across our road. Not a great deal goes on, but there’s quite a lot of traffic; the local hospital is almost next door and we get a lot of people parking outside. Other than that, a woman at number 19 who pops out every day to water her hanging baskets, a couple of sleek grey cats… that’s it in terms of visual distractions. But I have plenty of other things to distract me from my work (I’m the world’s worst at getting started on my writing).
More about them later.