What Does Where You Write Say About You? by Dan Holloway

It's one of those things that seems to fill endless feature columns in Sunday papers but whether we're readers or writers, we still never really get tired of this particular kind of nosiness. So I thought I'd take this New Year's chance (I say that, but the actual reason I chose New Year is that it's the only hope you'll ever have of my study being tidy enough to be pictured) to ask where people write, and take you on a little tour of my space.

There's more to where we write than you might think. Our writing spaces say a lot about us. This is mine. Sort of. Where I do my most productive writing is actually on a pavement on a busy street with my back against the wall watching the people go by. But I rarely have the opportunity for that, so this is where it happens.

So. What does it say about me. Well, first off you'll notice the magnolia paint. Which can mean only one thing. We're not homeowners. With my credit history and a job in the south of England, that's not going to happen. I'm not quite sure how anyone in our neck of the woods does own a house. So. Magnolia it is. Second, I'm lucky enough to have a space where I can write. That hadn't been the intention. We chose our house (I should point out that we always knew we were renting for th elong term. We each came to our current house with two large Pickford vans full largely of books. Moving is a once or twice in a lifetime thing) because we had intended to have bedrooms to put our children. Sadly, we were never able to have children. So they remain our studies.

Zooming in on the detail, then. Well, the dictionaries are de rigueur (and a proud memento from managing to clock up 5 wins on Countdown in the 90s), the beautiful marble slab a leftover from my days in the flooring trade, the pudding wine bottles a hint at a theme that runs through all my books (the smallest of them is Tokai Eszencia, the sublime substance at the heart of my two best-selling books). The postcards are there to provide inspiration and blend my twin passions of French 60s philosophy and early 20th century art (my netbook is sitting on a cloth mat from Giverny, based on the fabrics in Monet's kitchen).

And then there's the actual hub, pictured above. My netbook comes complete with a skin (from the fabulous Skinit) of the cover of my book The Company of Fellows - given that I do much of my writing in coffee shops, on the pavement and on the bus, this is a fabulous subliminal way of getting the title into people's heads - if you have a hi-res picture of your cover I'd really recommend it - they come perfectly sized for most makes of computer and smartphone - and, of course, Kindle (you'll also see on the dictionaries my moo card boxes - the most fabulous way to get your cards made).

But pride of place, as a thriller writer, goes to my metal netbook rest, a present from my wife -about the best present I've ever had - a genuine intended-for-use-at-crime-scenes stepping plate, the kind you see on all those forensic dramas. What could be more inspirational for someone who writes thrilers?


But there's more to a writing space than, er, the space you write. I have about 1000 books in my study, but they're arranged very carefully (they have to be - the room's 8'x6' and has 3 desks and 2 filing cabinets!) - the top near shelf is where I keep my top favourites, the books I go back to again and again. Some of the books will be no surprise - lots of Murakami, Kundera, Houellebecq, Bolano, and Banana Yoshimoto. There's also a smattering of BEat - a Ginsberg, a Ferlinghetti and a Kerouac. Two devastating and breathlessly brilliant French books, Betty Blue and Breathing Underwater, and one of the best psychological literary thrillers you'll ever read, Josephine Hart's Damage. Underneath you'll catch a glimpse of the "almost pride of place" where things like a prized ARC of Tom McCarthy's "C" nestle.


This is what goes on behind the writing desk. The holding bay. It's full of things that have associations, memories, things that inspire me when my mind goes blank (as well as having my absolute favourite book of 2010, Patti Smith's Just Kids). The table comes from my parents, and it's covered with things brought back from a period when my wife and I visited 23 countries in a single year at the height of the budget travel boom - there are speciality liqueurs from Eastern Europe, a leather-bound journal from Florence, perfume from Egypt, a lavender bag from Arles, stone from Sicily, burred wood from Marrakech (oh, and, um, yes, that *is* a Twilight mug).

And that upright storage unit came from Woolworth's, for 25p when they were selling off all their fixtures and fittings. I use it to store tickets and programmes from all the rock gigs we've ever been to. And another prized possession - an original bookstore poster of Thomas Pynchon's Vineland from the book's initial release back in the 80s.

OK, the netbook skin already gave away that I love customised things. I also love comfy clothes, and nothing's quite so comfy as a really fleecy hoodie (which I keep in my study because it's the one room in the house where the heating is never on, for the very good reason that I keep my pudding wine under one of the desks, and storing that at optimal temperature is way more important than a bit of frostbite). So I have a hoodie with some lines of my poetry on the front and my personal web address on the back!

There. I hope that's sated the nosiness! What about you? What does your writing space say about you?

That poster isn't in my study, but it is the poster for a night of poetry and prose I'm running in Manchester on January 23rd to which you are all warmly invited . You can click the poster or here for full details but we have some fabulous entertainers and award-winning writers. and it's free.

Dan Holloway

my new random musings, pics, poems, and videos can be found here