I wake early. In my Kent home – a former rectory surrounded by lawns and woodland – it is invariably birdsong that awakens me. But here in my French mas, it is the light that stirs me; whatever the weather, the sky reflecting on the Mediterranean is luminous. I linger in bed for a while, trying to recall the details of my dream. I remember a beach, and two lovers reaching desperately for each other over some obstacle. I grab my notebook, always ready beside the bed, and scribble down a few phrases.
Once I am dressed, I take a light breakfast and a cup of fruit tea on the terrace, taking in the view – the blooming flowers, the velvety lawns, and beyond, the ocean on which boats of all sizes are the heading out from St Tropez. This is my Zen place, where I set the mood for the day ahead.
Already the air is humid; it will be scorching today. So I retreat to my office. There is a large wooden desk on which I spread out all my research papers, shelves of books (the dictionary is particularly well thumbed) and, most importantly, a view of the garden and sea through the big half-circle patio doors. This is my little haven; as Virginia Wolf said, ‘A woman must have… a room of her own if she is to write fiction.’
I start with an hour of administration and marketing work. I am very strict about limiting that time; writing comes first. I answer some emails, check the publisher’s blurb for my next novel, converse with some readers on social media and – bleep, time is up. Now comes my favourite time of day: for the next six or so hours I will immerse myself in writing, with just a short break for lunch. My current book has been researched and planned meticulously, so I waste no time in diving in. Resisting the urge to edit yesterday’s words, I read over them and then pick up the story.
I am quickly immersed in another place and time, with characters who feel so vivid and real to me. Today I am writing a difficult scene: the lovers are arguing. A misunderstanding coupled with blind pride has caused them to lash out rather than reach out. Reach out – that is it! I open my notebook, where I jotted down some phrases inspired by my dream last night. Two of them fit perfectly; I work them into the scene.
Late afternoon, the writing slows. I am tired and restless. I close the laptop, and go out – not so much for a break from writing, but to stir the muse who loves nothing better than people-watching in a pavement café or paddling in the surf along the beach. I let my mind wander, and jot down new ideas in my trusty notebook.
Come the evening it is time to switch off and be with my family. We share a meal – today I am trying out an Italian fish recipe as part of the research for a future novel – and then we sit up late, talking and star-gazing around the chiminea. A peace descends on me as I realise the day is nearly done, and tomorrow I will be fortunate enough to get up and do it all again. This is my perfect ‘Groundhog Day’.
Legacy by Hannah Fielding is out on 29th September (£7.99) http://hannahfielding.net/