Writing A Book, Part 2 (NaNoWriMo Month)

Being an author isn't the easiest profession. In fact, a writer's mind can deteriorate very quickly. Usually by 9AM. (Earlier if I've stayed up writing until 3AM.) 

My partner often sighs in frustration at the fact that he has to repeat things to me. I often fail to hear him because I'm usually thinking about my next chapter / my next deadline / whether a character should behave the way they do in the narrative / whether I should be publishing such a secret and sensitive story in the first place / whether I can finish writing 3 books by the end of November / whether that Paris hotel reimbursed me (and how I should really reconcile those credit card slips)  / whether the dogs have had their worming tablets / whether I've bought my niece an 18th birthday present / if I need to take a gift to our friends' house tomorrow / whether we move to New York next year  / whether I've called the locksmith and electrician /  how I'm going to manoeuvre 30 people around 20 gardens in 8 days.

As you can see, a writer is often quietly  schizophrenic  preoccupied? 

I'm sure there are other jobs that require a person to have a peripatetic mind, but I just can't think of one at the moment. I'm too preoccupied.

There is one thing I will always have time to stop my stream-of-consciousness thoughts for though, and that's encouraging people to write. 

I will always – always - try and inspire others to write, even if it's just prodding them to jot down their life story while they're still alive. Everyone has a story in them. Everyone has the ability to write. Most of those stories are wonderful. And most of the writing styles are fine. You don't need to be Hemingway to pen an enthralling memoir. Just start to write. Write as if your life depended on it.

Don't worry about the dog worming, the washing, the household accounting. Just sit down for a few hours and write. Do that every day (and I write between 9PM and 3AM, so I'm proof that there's always time in the day) and you'll have the beginnings of a great book before you know it. I promise you.

Don't even worry about creating a memorable first page. First pages are notoriously difficult. They'll hold you up. They'll make you cry. They'll kill you. They'll put you off writing for life. 

Just start writing, and before you know it, you'll be on the 45th page. And that's when you'll realise that the 45th page would actually make a really great first page. (Then you can tweak things; it doesn't take much to flip chapters around.) As all good writers know: the strength of a book is in the editing.

But don't worry about editing yet. The most important thing is just to write.

And to stop worrying if you appear preoccupied.

If you're attempting to finish writing a book this month as part of NaNoWriMo month, here's some literary inspiration of an unconventional nature.

Just remember – all writers struggle. That's part of the profession. But the good ones are tenacious. It's the tenacious ones who get somewhere. 

Good luck. I wish you all the best!

Have a lovely, writerly weekend.

(Image at very top: a fantastic painting of words by Liz Collini at the V&A, although I think the comma should be after 'indescribable', not 'paper', don't you?)

Writing A Book: The Stories Of Your Lives

I want to tell you a story. It's a good one. I hope it will inspire you. You'll see the point of it very soon.

Last Friday morning, on a crowded Eurostar train from London to Paris, as the landscape morphed from Kent fields to Normandy farmlets, I heard the most incredible life story. It was the story of the woman sitting next to me. Well, the story of her father, really.

And what a story it was.

Her father, now 92, had just begun working in the Diplomatic Corps in London. He was only 19. One night, at a summer reception, he met a beautiful young French girl. She was just 15. Unperturbed by the age difference, they spoke of their dreams, their hopes and ambitions, and their lives in London. It turned out they lived just streets apart.  The love, he said, was instantaneous. "I couldn't imagine my life without her," he explained. The date was June 2, 1939. The Second World War was just around the corner.

When France declared war on Germany three months later, the French Girl's parents sent a telegram requesting that she come home. They needed her, they said. So she said a tearful goodbye to The Diplomat, wiped her eyes, and courageously took a train back to Cherbourg.

For the next four years, The Diplomat worked in the war offices, wondering if he'd ever see her again. Eventually, he met an English girl, and – not knowing if the war would ever end – married her. It was a quiet affair. His heart, you see, was still in Cherbourg. The French Girl, meanwhile, had started witnessing atrocities that a teenager should never see. By then, the Germans had brought in the Mongolians to do their dirty work and the deaths were horrendous. After she'd witnessed an infant being crucified, she decided to join the French Resistance. She was only 19. Her uncle was already in the Resistance, and high up by that point in time, and when he heard that her name was on a German 'hit list', he smuggled her out of the country. She was sent to London, where she was given a safe house. It was two streets away from The Diplomat. Unbeknown to them both, they lived just metres apart.

For the next 10 years, she worked, settled down, married an Englishman, had four children (The Diplomat also had four), and tried to forget the war. And a young dashing Englishman she'd met at the age of 15. But she couldn't. Haunted by her memories of love and loss, she told her husband everything. He simply said that he loved her all the more.

Fast forward 40 years. In an ironic twist, the French Woman's husband had also become a diplomat, and had decided to attend a conference in Geneva. By chance, he saw The Diplomat's name on the seating chart. He decided to say hello. "Why don't you visit us one day?" he said generously. "My wife would really love to see you again." The two couples met for dinner.  The conversation was warm, polite, quietly sentimental, dignified. They decided to stay in touch. A letter here and there.

Both couples grew old, as people do. The French Woman's husband passed away. So she moved back to France, to the town of her birth. But still she kept in touch with her first love. The letters continued for the next 20 years.

Two decades later, The Diplomat's wife died also. He waited for a respectable length of time. And then he bought a ring, and took the first train to Cherboug.

The Diplomat and the French Woman were married under a lemon tree in her garden, on a bright sunny day in June. The year was 2005. He was 85 years old. She was 81. It had been 66 years since they'd last kissed.

They haven't stopped kissing since.

I'm telling you this story because this month, November, is NaNoWriMo Month. It's that time of year when would-be writers are challenged to begin writing a book. A book of 50,000 words. To be written in a month. It's a tough challenge, but thousands attempt it. It's a fantastic way to begin writing, with a deadline looming in front of you. The pressure usually forces the words to come.

Everybody has a story inside them. Everybody has a narrative of their own to tell. Perhaps you can begin writing yours down?

Go on. You've got a month to do it.

Library Love

I owe you all a sincere apology. I've been a little subdued lately. When writers are sequestered in a room on  their own for months on end, day after day, week after week, they tend to become a little, well, quiet. What's that old saying? You can learn anything locked in a room on your own, except for life itself... I always loved that quote.

Lots of writer suffer from the isolation. I remember reading that Stephen King believed that it was important that all writers stop after 2000 words each day and go outside to remember the world again. Hemingway was religious about stopping at midday and going out fishing or drinking. (Not that I will be doing that, but Key West would be a fantastic place to ride a bike around the bars!) Even Maggie Alderson now closes her computer and does drawing classes in the afternoons. I don't know how they do it. I feel guilty if I not still writing at 2AM each night.

But I'm planning to enrol in some courses with some friends this spring. The old CAE has some fantastic ones this season:  Macaron Making; Botanical Art Workshops; a course on The Californian Bungalow Home; The History of The Orient Express; Melbourne's Hidden Architectural Secrets; Photographing Melbourne; Laneways of Melbourne, and (my favourite) The City of Literature course, which takes you to the city's hidden bookshops. They sound fantastic, don't they? Details here – www.cae.edu.com 

In the meantime, here are some lovely literary visions to inspire you all, in the form of some truly delightful libraries.

Diane Keaton's library, which wowed the design world when it was featured in Architectural Digest. When Ms Keaton bought this Spanish Colonial Revival-style home in Beverly Hills, she immediately turned the entrance into a library. It was a savvy move. Now, the first impression guests receive is a welcoming and intelligent space, rather than a room full of boots and a painting or two. She's since sold this home, and bought another to store all her books in. Hopefully the new owners have retained this space as a library. It would be a shame if they converted it back to a boot room!

I love Diane Keaton, and not just for her architectural knowledge. I'm looking forward to her two new films, Darling Companion and The Wedding, scheduled to appear in October.

Fashion designer Paul Smith's library. Another bibliophile, Paul often incorporates books as part of his stores' merchandising.

Anna Wintour's library at her Long Island / Hamptons hideaway. I do wonder if Ms Wintour ever has time to read?

Karl Lagerfeld's library in his Left Bank residence. Now Karl does make time for reading! Have you seen the photos of his bedroom? There are books instead of pillows.

Sarah Jessica Parker's library. This room is in a New York house that she and Matthew Broderick are selling. The magazine stand is an intelligent touch.

The Manhattan library of book publisher Suzanne Slesin, owner of Pointed Leaf Press. When I saw this space recently, I recognised it from an old ad I loved as a young girl. It was a Pottery Barn ad that was set in a library. I didn't know what Pottery Barn was at the time. (We don't have it in Australia.) I just loved the library! Here's the ad, below. Look at the initials – ABC – above the left door.

I'm not sure what this extraordinary library is? Does anyone know? It is a metaphor for the destruction of trees for the publishing industry? (Or even the demise of the publishing industry itself?) Is it a stage set? It's all very mysterious...

Diane von Furstenberg's library at her Connecticut home, Cloudwalk. We drove past this recently. Such a gorgeous part of the world. BTW, there is an incredible story about DVF here, from the LA Times. I do feel that the writer has betrayed confidences somewhat, but it's still interesting. 

A beautiful olive-green library from the book Decorating With Books. I love this space, clutter and all. It looks very English.

Chateau de Groussay's library, photographed by Cecil Beaton. Many library lovers consider this to be the most beautiful private library in the world. 

Here's another angle of Chateau de Groussay's library, from the Sotheby's catalogue.

Bill Blass's library. {Source unknown.}

Jackie Kennedy's library. 

{Again, source unknown. Forgive me. If anyone knows the credit, please notify me.}

A library in a kitchen. I love this. We're considering installing a library in our kitchen / sunroom, if I can persuade my darling hubster to build it. {Source unknown.}

Lindsay Coral Harper's library, as featured in Atlanta Homes. Love the ottomans and the plum colour.

And my absolute favourite, although, once again, the source has been lost in the dreaded tumblr mess. (I fear the photos in the future: crediting is becoming a lost art!) Isn't this the sweetest library? Look at the little daybed near the window, the spiral staircase, the lovely mezzanine... I could happily live in this library.