Check out the Guardian's series on "Writer's Rooms," as in the lonely decrepit places where some of your favorite writers do their lonely, decrepit work.



Highlights:

-- Sarah Waters has the best poster.

-- Evidently, George Bernard Shaw worked in a tool shed that he could punch around as necessary to make sure that the light was always in the window.

-- Roald Dahl fixed it so that he never had to leave his chair, using some kind of apparatus, made of whimsy...

-- Hillary Mantel works on the top floor of an old Victorian asylum: "The only ornament is a tiny, chipped pottery cat in a basket, which I hold sometimes if I am feeling bleak."

-- Evidently, Will Self is a terrorist with big plans.

-- Jonathan Safran Foer does not want you to see where he actually writes.

-- Beryl Bainbridge wins this fucking contest. "One of my grandchildren left the gun...my grandchildren aren't allowed to have guns at home, but they are when they come to see me." Plus, that room is motherfucking MADDENING. I could write in there. The rest of these places would make me want to make phone sex calls all day and pace around, making pronouncements, straightening things.


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Posted by miracle on Tue, 03 Jun 2008 11:16:51 -0400 -- permanent link