Sadie Jones / Features / Untitled Books

"I suppose the imagined finished work is the carrot, and the fear of not writing is the stick."

Sadie Jones

Sadie Jones' first novel, The Outcast, won the Costa First Novel Award. Her latest book, Small Wars has just been longlisted for this year's Orange Prize.

Where are you right now?

In my house. We've got builders. I'm sitting between the cat litter and what used to be my dressing table, now a temporary kitchen table in the temporary kitchen.

Where do you write?

I can write anywhere, usually, but at the moment in a nearby café. I get there at about half-past nine and work until two. Before we moved I was working much longer days and at home - I'm doing what I can, at present.

How do you write?

If you mean what is the process, then the answer would be that I plan and prepare by hand, with notes and drawings, and then write straight onto the screen. I can type much more quickly than I write.

What keeps you writing?

Again - a potentially very deep one! I suppose the imagined finished work is the carrot, and the fear of not writing is the stick.

Who do you write for?

I don't write for anybody, but that's not to say I do it for myself. Perhaps an analogy might be that if a furniture maker were to make a table, they would try to make the best table they could, that would be practical and pleasing to look at, but they might not necessarily imagine any specific people using it.

Do you discuss your work with anyone?

I do. I try not to, but there's a loneliness about inhabiting a world for so long on my own; it's very tempting to try and invite people into it, even if it's not ready. If I'm having problems with a scene, or a section, I don't look for answers from other people, but I often find them on hearing myself say the questions out loud.

How do you know if your work is good?

I don't. I have no idea. I know when I'm loving it, or proud, but I can accept that I don't really have any idea what somebody else might think. I do like to think I know when I'm writing badly, though. To throw away work that one thinks is dreadful, that in fact might not be, is an unsettling thought.

Do you have any unwritten characters in mind?

No. Lovely question, though. What a nice idea, I wish I did. I tend to work on one thing at a time, and when it's gone have nothing at all to replace it for a time.

Which book do you wish you'd written?

None. I don't think it works like that. I'm not usually envious when I read something wonderful; another person's voice and talent are so much their own that 'I want that' doesn't usually come up. Sometimes though, greatness can be actually painful.

What is your literary guilty pleasure?

It's such an odd thing, this idea that we can be proud of loving some things and ashamed of others, as if our taste and intelligence are so fragile. I've even seen PG Wodehouse described as a guilty pleasure, which is absurd, as he's a comic genius. (Usually by people not nearly as clever.)

Which writer made you want to write?

I'm not sure it works like that. I think writers just do write. My favourites at the age of twenty were Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, Virginia Woolf, Colette, Capote, Steinbeck and Nabokov. They probably still are.

Who's the most exciting author writing today?

I find it very difficult to read fiction when I'm writing, and so come across new books (new for me, at least) far less often than I would like to. Adam Foulds and Ali Smith are extraordinary writers whose work I have read in the last couple of years; I admire them both tremendously.

If you weren't writing you'd be...?

Not very happy at all, I shouldn't think.

What next?

I shall keep going, and hope to get better.

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Small Wars is published in paperback by Vintage.

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Tuesday, 30 March, 2010