My reluctance to move was entirely sentimental. Ours is a rented house, but I'd become thoroughly attached to my writing space. We moved here two years ago, just as I was starting out on my second novel, and doing final line edits on The Book of Summers. I quit my job the same month, so my room symbolised the start of a new phase in my life, that of a full-time writer. I've always been fascinated by artists' studios and writers' rooms, so I revelled in creating the perfect working environment, full of inspiration and colour and light. I wrote about my room for Novelicious, a piece you can read HERE, where I talk about the relevance behind particular objects, and back in the summer the photographer Alun Callender paid a visit, as part of a shoot for Sainsbury's Magazine. He took such beautiful photographs that I wanted to share a few of them here. A pictorial ode to a room I've loved. Thank you, Alun.
I'm now installed in my new room. The light's different, the view's changed, there's no fireplace, no floorboards, but all my stuff is here. While my old room marked a new phase in my life as a writer, so too does this one. And while I know that things are going to change remarkably and beautifully and terrifyingly in the coming months, I hold on to the idea that my Writing Room - whatever its location - will stay constant. Solitude. Lamplight. Coffee. Colour. A place of books written, and books yet to write.