What We're Writing--Debs Does Interior Design

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Rhys's post this week on researching the details of her book-in-progress got me thinking about what I need to see in real life versus what I make up out of whole cloth, or a combination thereof. Since I write about actual places, I usually stick pretty close to the real thing when I'm describing exterior settings, and I do my best to see the settings in person. I'm a big proponent of boots-on-the-ground.

But interiors are a different story! There is so much freedom there! I love writing about rooms, and I've often said that my fantasy job is to be a set designer for films or TV--what fun to bring characters and time periods to life through their spaces and belongings. Think about the new version of All Creatures Great and Small, for instance--I would watch that just to see the rooms in Skeldale House. They are so perfect, and they tell us so much about the people living there. 

We had parts of a movie shot in our house once and that was such an interesting experience. The film was low budget so I'm not sure they had an actual set designer, but whoever was in charge of sets brought in odds and ends of things, which they mixed with our stuff. In one scene in our living room, the actors drink tea from our Blue Calico porcelain, which I thought rather an odd choice for these particular characters, and it was bizarre to see our living room not looking quite like our living room! Our guest room became a teenage boy's room--amazing the transformation wrought by a few bits of sports memorabilia.

Some of my interiors are based on places I have been in person. The B&B in Now May You Weep, for example, with its over abundance of purple tartans, was based on a place I stayed (alas, now closed) in the village of Boat of Garten in the Scottish Highlands.

I'm addicted to British home magazines and I get ideas for rooms and houses from the feature spreads and even the ads. I wish I could show you the room that served as the inspiration for the gorgeous blue and pink sitting room in A Bitter Feast's Beck House, but I'm afraid I might get us in trouble for copyright violation.  (Also, I can't find the magazine!)

Sometimes, there's a fun inspiration within an inspiration. This is the corner of our sunporch. The poster features artist Stephanie Woolley, whose lovely work I attributed (with her permission) to artist Julia Swann in Leave the Grave Green. But it's also a nod to the sucession of gray tabbies in our lives--we seem to be magnets for them. (And please excuse my sad plant--that one is not doing the poster justice!)

And sometimes I just have a room in my mind, a place I've never been or seen in a photo, but that seems so real I can't believe it doesn't exist. Here's a very rough snippet from a scene in the book-in-progress (Kincaid/James #20) where we find Melody Talbot waking from a sleep in Hazel Cavendish's sitting room.

Hours later, it was sound that began to filter into her awareness first. There was the soft murmur of a radio, BB4, she thought, which made her think of her dad. Was she in the Kensington townhouse? No, the gentle clink of crockery brought it back. She was in Hazel’s bungalow, and there was the scent of something delicious baking—was it bread? And beneath that, something savory, perhaps a soup or casserole, that smelled of garlic and unfamiliar spices.

Tendrils of some pleasant dream still flickered at the edge of her consciousness, and her body felt heavy and languorous in a way she had almost forgotten. With an effort, she forced her eyes to open a fraction. The light in the room had changed, golden now rather than green-tinted as it had been in the morning, when it had been filtered by the potted lemon trees in the courtyard.

God, how long had she slept? What time was it? Was that the evening news on the radio? As her heart began its familiar racing, she struggled to sit up. Hazel had covered her with a red tartan throw blanket and the black cat had moved to the far end of the rose-patterned sofa, where he slept half on her feet. Tentatively, Melody extricated her right foot and flexed it—numb. No wonder it had felt so odd.

Edging free of cat and blanket, she swung her legs down and felt the rough texture of sisal matting beneath her bare feet. When had she taken off her shoes? Blinking her sticky eyes, she took in more of her surroundings. She saw now that Hazel had placed large potted plants either side of the tiny blue-tiled fireplace, a touch that made the bungalow feel as if the garden had been transported inside.

As if alerted by some sixth sense, Hazel came into the room. “Ah, you’re awake. I’ve just put the kettle on.”

Hazel's rose-patterned sofa I saw ages ago in an Ikea catalogue (most of Hazel's furniture came from Ikea) but the rest is purely from the depths of my subconscious.

Fellow writers, where do you get the ideas for the interiors you describe?

Readers, do you pay attention to these details? Do you feel they give you a sense of the characters?