Welcome to My Home by Jeannette de Beauvoir
It’s very small,
measuring about three and a half feet by two feet. It’s generally clean, very
well-lit, and contains things that are either useful or that make me happy.
It is, of
course, my desk.
I think a lot
about the concept of home. I was fortunate to have a stable, lovely home
growing up, a house out of a fairytale, truly; but as an adult I’ve been
somewhat peripatetic, living in a number of different places and different
environments… I’ve not always even been sure what country is home, much
less what community. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I’ve grounded most of my
fiction in a definite sense of place, why I’ve given my characters clear and
generally beloved “homes.” They get something that’s eluded me.
The one constant
throughout all my adult life has been—you knew we’d get back to it!—my desk. I
once answered an author questionnaire that asked where I write, and I felt a
little at a loss. I’m not very exciting. Apart from some very bad self-absorbed
poetry I wrote when I was thirteen, self-absorbedly sitting in the towner of a castle, I’ve always worked
at a desk. Conventional. Boring, even.
But oh, the
places a desk can take you!
I may work at a
desk, but I travel often, and there’s a lot on the desk that reminds me of what
I saw and felt and learned on those travels. Behind my sensible pen box is a
fan from Brussels, a bookmark reminding me of famous Oxonians, a pair of art
deco scissors from France. Beside it, a small vase with fresh flowers—from my
garden in season, from the grocery story out of it. Two icons. A small
skull—memento mori—and a curious bottle labeled “Devastation Prevention
Potion.” To the right, a lamp, a calendar, my daybook, and a coaster with a
Hemingway quote (“Wine is the most civilized thing in the world”). I look at
these things and I draw in a deep breath: this is home.
When I do
travel, some of my desk travels with me. Wherever I stay, I find a desk-like
environment in which to set up the minimum of my home. And when I travel to
work, that means I can work comfortably, immediately inspired.
It doesn’t mean
that I don’t look beyond my desk. I live now in a place I can definitely call
home, where I have a place in the community, where I fit in. And yet always I
start my days at the desk, putting in my morning pages, getting the work done.
Starting from home.
None of my
characters is a writer, so I’ve had to find other ways of integrating them into
both their communities and into a sense of home within those communities
besides the (admittedly facile) device of giving them a desk. Martine LeDuc
grew up in Montréal and now works as the city’s PR director, and she is
passionately in love with it, with every street, every building, her heart
soaring as she turns a corner and sees more of it, afresh, every day. Sydney
Riley’s relationship with Provincetown is a little more nuanced; she happened
upon the town accidentally one winter after a bad breakup and was welcomed into
its unique environment by the man whose murder would become her first foray
into amateur sleuthing.
I love both of
these places, Montréal and Provincetown. And I love that my protagonists think
about what it means to live in them, finding their own objects and places and
people that give them pleasure and solidify their sense of home. And I love
exploring both places myself… though I always return to my desk.
What about you?
What makes “home,” home? Is it a place?
A person? A feeling? Would love to hear… comment here, on my Facebook page, or at my blog
(where you can see photos as well), and let me know!
Jeannette de
Beauvoir’s newest novel is book four in the Sydney Riley Provincetown mystery
series, A
Killer Carnival.
BIO:
Award-winning author Jeannette de Beauvoir writes mystery and historical
fiction that’s been translated into 12 languages. A Booksense Book-of-the-Year
finalist, she’s a member of the Authors Guild, the Mystery Writers of America,
Sisters in Crime, and the National Writers Union. All her novels are firmly
rooted in a sense of place, and her delight is to find characters true to the
spaces in which they live. She herself lives and writes in a cottage in
Provincetown, on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and loves the collection of people
who assemble at a place like land’s end.
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