Jane Austen. Her books are classics. There are only six, I think, but they are internationally known and make the English very proud. Today Barbara and I went to Chawton to visit the house where she did the bulk of her writing (and revising), and I learned that her first books were published under the name “A Lady” and then “by the same author as Sense and Sensibility.” Those Brits sure are proud of someone they initially tried to supress. I suppose it was the early 1800s, after all.
They have a writer in residence at her house, and you can do workshops there (unfortunately none this month or the next, which I was bummed about). She has a blog, too.
The thing that most surprised me about the house was the tiny table that she supposedly wrote at– smaler than an end table, a little low circular table you’d probably put a small lamp on, or a vase of flowers.
When I write, I like to be spread out. It’s hard to imagine being productive at such a small table. Or without having access to a computer where you can store word documents with pages and pages of notes, or thoughts, and internet where you can look up pretty much anything about anything, any time you need to. That might be an interesting exercise to do, having to write a complete work just sitting at one table. I guess that’s how she acheieved her supposedly incredible imagery and attention to detail– she wrote about what she knew, and she knew it very well.
what other people said was…