Just a reminder not to be sidetracked by romanticised notions about writing, by long discourses on process, by all sorts of fascinating, seductive notions about what it is to be a writer.


Writing makes the writer. I do it curled up at one end of a sofa as I am right now, watching the fire that never did take off die in the stove in clumps of soot and ash. Or at my kitchen table as my kids spill juice on the countertops, or at a noisy cafe in some charmless mall. Or in the car if needs must…

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