Rooms of Their Own

An exclusive peak into my new book

My new book Rooms of Their Own is published later this week. Here is an extract, the section on John Steinbeck, with a couple of the original illustrations that go with it by James Oses.

In a 1958 letter to his friend and agent Elizabeth Otis, American novelist John Steinbeck outlined his plans for building what he described as his “little lighthouse”, somewhere that was too small for a bed so that it could never be used as a guest room. “It will be off limits to everyone,” he told her. “One of its main features will be an imposing padlock on the door.” 

Steinbeck’s writing hut on Long Island, New York, was so dear to him that he actually gave it a name, Joyous Garde (he even handmade a sign for it and stuck it above the door outside). Named for Sir Lancelot's castle, the hexagonal structure at Sag Harbor was inspired by Mark Twain's own garden office and enjoyed marvellous views over the cove near Bluff Point. The attractive hut with windows in every wall was built by Steinbeck himelf and he worked in a director's chair inside which he labelled 'Siege Perilous' – indeed, Joyous Garde had only one chair so visitors had nowhere to sit down. A large desk took up much of the room allowing him to spread out papers and books and a bookshelf ran all round the room over the windows. In this cosy abode, which he initially planned to call Sanity’s Stepchild, he wrote his travelogue Travels with Charley and his final novel Winter of Our Discontent.

As well as Joyous Garde, Steinbeck (1902 – 1968) enjoyed the peace of his writing room in his apartment on the upper East Side of New York which he described as “a quiet room where nothing ever happens”, so quiet in fact that he talked about getting a myna bird and teaching it to ask him questions. He had a sign on the outside of the door which read ‘Buzzard’s Despair’ and on the reverse ‘Tidy Town’ which is how his wife adjusted it to show she had been in and tidied it while he was out.

But whichever writing room he worked in, Steinbeck – who liked to write rapidly - had one prerequisite. Pencils. And plenty of them.

“I like the feeling of a pencil,” he said, which is something of an understatement. He used hundreds on each new book, sharpened to a point which he son Thom called ‘surgical’. “The pure luxury of long beautiful pencils charges me with energy and invention,” said Steinbeck.

He was particularly keen on round ones, as he found hexagonal pencils cut into his fingers. Nevertheless, he wrote with them so often that he developed a grooved callus on his finger where the pencil rested. Another requirement was that they be black so that they did not distract him. And his quest for the perfect pencil was never-ending.

“For years I have looked for the perfect pencil,” he wrote. “I have found very good ones, but never the perfect one. And all the time it was not the pencils but me. A pencil that is all right some days is no good another day.” He had soft writing days and hard writing days, according to pencils. Sometimes it changed in the middle of the day.

Steinbeck also had an electric sharpener of which he was very fond, calling it his most used and most useful possession. Since he began each morning with a wooden box of 24 fully sharpened pencils which he rotated and resharpened during the day, it was certainly a great help. As one began to blunt after a few lines, it would be placed into a second box to await resharpening while he picked up a new pencil to continue writing. As the process continued, the pencils would shorten and once the metal holding the rubber on the top touched his hand, he would hand them over to his sons.

He was particularly keen on round pencils, as he found hexagonal ones cut into his fingers. Nevertheless, he wrote with them so often that he developed a grooved callus on his finger where the pencil rested. Another requirement was that they be black so that they did not distract him. Favourite brands included the Blaisdell Calculator 600, the Eberhard Faber Mongol 480 (actually yellow), and the Eberhard Faber Blackwing 602 (tagline ‘half the pressure, twice the speed’).

Steinbeck also had an electric sharpener of which he was very fond, calling it his most used and most useful possession. Since he began each morning with a wooden box of 24 fully sharpened pencils which he rotated and resharpened during the day, it was certainly a great help.

Steinbeck acknowledged that this love of pencils, what he called his “pencil trifling”,  was one of his eccentricities. But he had others. He wrote his novel East of Eden on the right hand pages of a book (in pencil, naturally), while using the left hand ones to compose letters to his friend and editor, Pascal Covici about the progress of the book, as well as general news. In fact he started his morning work with the letter to warm up - Steinbeck explained he felt the need to ‘have to dawdle a certain amount before I go to work.’

Despite this low-tech obsession, Steinbeck was actually keen to make use of new technology, using a Dictaphone to try out dialogue for his novels, and typing up manuscripts on his olive green Hermes Baby typewriter, one of the earliest portables. On its case he scratched ‘The Beast Within’.

What I read last week: The Golden Flea: A Story of Obsession and Collecting by Michael Rips, one person’s encounter with the people who run stalls at New York’s famous flea market. It’s a bit of a rum read.

What I’m reading this week: I’m about halfway through Jane’s Country Year by Malcolm Saville.

What I’m planning to read next week: I’ve just got back from a short break in the Peak District and picked up various things from secondhand bookshops which I’ve only flicked through including first editions of Edward Ardizzone’s Diary of a War Artist and Flashman and the Dragon by George Macdonald Fraser (Flashman is my guilty pleasure).