Stacy Alesi's BookBitch.com™

me & Jane

I am delighted to have Jane Green guest blogging today as her new book arrives in stores!

I’ve been a fan of Jane’s since my bookselling days at Borders when I discovered JEMIMA J, and have read everything she has written since. I recently got to meet her for the first time, which was such a thrill for me. Jane was kind enough to give a talk at the Wellington Branch Library (Palm Beach County Library System) for Writers LIVE!, the premier series of author events in Palm Beach County.

One of the things I love about her books is that as I’ve grown up over the past 18 years, so have her books – she started off writing chick lit, stories of thirty-somethings and their lives and has graduated to wonderfully angst ridden family tales that keep me turning the pages. Jane’s gifts are creating warm, engaging characters and completely engrossing stories. TEMPTING FATE is her latest.

A Place To Write

By Jane Green

WHEN I wrote my first book, I had a tiny second bedroom, more of a closet, at the top of a dark, narrow staircase, with a large picture window that overlooked the garden.

I was twenty seven and living in the first apartment I had bought, in London. I loved everything about it, the bright living room, the eat-in kitchen, the sunny garden, and most of all that second bedroom at the top of the stairs.

When I moved in, I planned to get a room-mate. I was a full-time journalist at the Daily Express – it never occurred to me to have an office at home. Soon, I had left my job in order to write a book, so the room-mate left, the bed was removed, and a professional-looking desk and chair installed. Those were happy days. I would wake up every morning, and still in my pajamas would head up the stairs with a large cup of coffee and excitement in my heart, the words pouring out through my fingertips day and night.

I moved to a larger apartment, thanks to my book deal. Again, my office was the second bedroom, overlooking the garden. And then, after I got married, to a house, where I took over the loft, and listened to the birds sing on our leafy street.

We moved to the United States, a place I had always loved, to the bustling New England suburb of Westport, Connecticut. By then I had one child, and one on the way. My single girl apartments had been quiet, peaceful, perfect environments in which to write. Suddenly there was a baby, and a babysitter, and noise, and I found I could no longer work at home.

I bought a laptop, and took it to my local library. I found a large table on the top floor, and happily wrote the next few books at one end of the table. Often, others would join. Immersed in their work, we never spoke, merely exchanged polite smiles, but after a while, a tutor started bringing his pupils up there, loudly going over French vocabulary, and I knew it was time to make another change.

I was, by then, a mother of four. The children were all in school, and theoretically I had the house back again. Theoretically I could easily have worked at home, just as I did in the early days.

But it wasn’t the same. The internet had taken a firm foothold in my life. I tried to write at home, but it was always the same. Three paragraphs, check email. Two paragraphs, online shopping. One paragraph, online newspaper. I got little done, and realized I had to find something else.

I didn’t want to rent an office by myself. Writing is so solitary, and as much as I loved my endless days in my first apartments not seeing anyone, I had come to realize that I needed to be around people, to be able to observe, to be in and of the world.

As Thoreau said: ‘how vain it is to sit down to write when one has not stood up to live.’

A small writer’s room opened up in my town. They held workshops to teach the craft of writing, and had a room dedicated to writers – pay a small fee and you could use their desks, sofas, wifi, and most importantly, coffee.

It is painted a bright, sunny yellow, the tables a warm maple, the chairs a bright red. Everything about the room is welcoming and comfortable.

I have written my last few books at the writer’s room. Students come and go, and whether or not I choose to talk depends largely on how the writing day is going. I have invested in huge noise-cancelling headphones, and when those are on, I am never disturbed.

I have a beautiful office at home, with a squashy sofa, and huge desk. Still, I cannot write at home. I edit, make phone calls, update my blog, facebook, but I still can’t get the words on the page when I’m in my own home.

I thank God, every day, for the writer’s room, a place that has made it so easy, for me to write.