The novelist, 74, on space in a marriage, having a terrible temper and being kept alive for too long
'I'm wary of making new friends. They think I can help them get their book published': Margaret Drabble in her west London home Photograph: Richard Saker for the Observer
I wrote my first novel while I was at the RSC in Stratford. I used to write in the dressing room, bashing away on my big typewriter surrounded by colleagues. The move from acting to writing wasn't dramatic – I was only doing walk-ons or understudying.
Novelists become stars overnight now. Fifty years ago, success wasn't sensational. People just said, "Oh, that's very good", but you didn't get the coverage you get today. I began to see myself as a proper writer after A Summer Bird-Cage was published [in 1963].
People can exploit me now, so I'm wary of making new friends. They think I can help them get their book published. I've got myself into terrible relationships with people who manipulated me because I'm not good at telling them to go away.
I'm still friends with my ex-husband. You go through the initial bit of divorce, where you're very angry. But then you realise there must have been something you liked about him in the first place. That was a revelation.
My depression comes and goes. I've had it since I was young and I've learned to live with it. It can be a matter of days, or a matter of hours.
Space is so important in a marriage. I love watching my own TV programme or eating my own macaroni cheese. My husband [writer and biographer Michael Holroyd] and I used to live in separate houses in London. Now we live together, but we're busy. It means when we meet we have a lot to talk about.
People in London have got so scared of one another. There used to be a real happiness on the streets in the 60s and 70s. Now, people are closed off to that and I wonder if Twitter is now the "street".
I drink more than my doctor thinks I should, although never during the day. At parties, I tend to get very happy after a few and start asking people to supper, which I always regret.
Nature is God. I'm a bit of a Pantheist. Nature – especially water – is restorative for me and I'm a great believer in going out for walks for spiritual sustenance.
I have a terrible temper. But then I repress it and have these horrid dreams where I'm shouting and swearing at people and I wake up feeling ashamed of myself. I'm absolutely hopeless at telling people how to do things.
Discussing my relationship with my sister [writer AS Byatt] just makes trouble. My siblings and I were never close – it wasn't a warm family life. That's why it makes me happy to see my three children get on so well.
The Pure Gold Baby by Margaret Drabble is published on 7 November (Canongate, £16.99).
Novelists become stars overnight now. Fifty years ago, success wasn't sensational. People just said, "Oh, that's very good", but you didn't get the coverage you get today. I began to see myself as a proper writer after A Summer Bird-Cage was published [in 1963].
People can exploit me now, so I'm wary of making new friends. They think I can help them get their book published. I've got myself into terrible relationships with people who manipulated me because I'm not good at telling them to go away.
I'm still friends with my ex-husband. You go through the initial bit of divorce, where you're very angry. But then you realise there must have been something you liked about him in the first place. That was a revelation.
My depression comes and goes. I've had it since I was young and I've learned to live with it. It can be a matter of days, or a matter of hours.
Space is so important in a marriage. I love watching my own TV programme or eating my own macaroni cheese. My husband [writer and biographer Michael Holroyd] and I used to live in separate houses in London. Now we live together, but we're busy. It means when we meet we have a lot to talk about.
People in London have got so scared of one another. There used to be a real happiness on the streets in the 60s and 70s. Now, people are closed off to that and I wonder if Twitter is now the "street".
I drink more than my doctor thinks I should, although never during the day. At parties, I tend to get very happy after a few and start asking people to supper, which I always regret.
Nature is God. I'm a bit of a Pantheist. Nature – especially water – is restorative for me and I'm a great believer in going out for walks for spiritual sustenance.
I have a terrible temper. But then I repress it and have these horrid dreams where I'm shouting and swearing at people and I wake up feeling ashamed of myself. I'm absolutely hopeless at telling people how to do things.
Discussing my relationship with my sister [writer AS Byatt] just makes trouble. My siblings and I were never close – it wasn't a warm family life. That's why it makes me happy to see my three children get on so well.
They keep you alive for far too long now. I used to believe life would come to a sudden end, like my mother's did – she went to sleep and didn't wake up – but alas, I now realise she was extremely lucky and it's more likely that they just keep bringing you back again and again, even if you don't want to be here any more.
I'm not extravagant, I was brought up in the war. But I love the feeling that, if I wanted, I could buy a really expensive coat. The freedom that I could is enough.The Pure Gold Baby by Margaret Drabble is published on 7 November (Canongate, £16.99).
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