'Art bereft of life must risk desiccation: on the other hand, where the sheer welter of life and its demands encroach too forcefully, the writer may fail to find a proper focus. '

Art bereft of life must risk desiccation: on the other hand, where the sheer welter of life and its demands encroach too forcefully, the writer may fail to find a proper focus. And the need to earn a living may lead a writer away from her or his real gift.

'The chances are W. G. Grace himself was born with less fuss than my opening paragraph. By lunchtime I had become a gibbering wreck.'

The chances are W. G. Grace himself was born with less fuss than my opening paragraph. By lunchtime I had given him a date of birth, an address, two parents and four grandparents. In the process I had become a gibbering wreck.

'By writing at least 250 words every single day, even when I’ve spent the day distracting myself, I become more productive when I do put the hours in. '

By writing at least 250 words every single day, even when it’s midnight and I’ve spent the day distracting myself, I become more productive at those times when I do put the hours in. Even if the 250 words are rubbish, they keep story and characters alive.

'As he grabbed a handful of crisps he delivered possibly one of the most insightful and concise critiques of my work I have ever received. ‘It’s alright. You know.'...'

As he grabbed a handful of crisps he delivered possibly one of the most insightful and concise critiques of my work I have ever received. ‘It’s alright. You know. When you’re reading it.’ (It’s possible, dear listener, I exaggerated the Birmingham accent).

'I often invite creative writing students to write an observation during class exercises. Why? Hadn’t I, at the age of fourteen, sworn off dutiful recording?'

I often invite creative writing students to write an observation during class exercises. Why do I ask them to do it? Hadn’t I, at the age of fourteen, sworn off dutiful recording? What happened, between then and now?... I read Anna Karenina.

'‘Any questions?’ I could hear the panic bubbling in their voice. There had to be questions —how else would they fill the remaining fifteen minutes?'

‘Any questions?’ I could hear the panic bubbling in their voice. There had to be questions —how else would they fill the remaining fifteen minutes? ‘Anyone? Anything?’ Finally, a hand slowly rose. ‘Where did you get your sweater from?’

'I was nervous about meeting this brilliant poet. But within half an hour I knew she was my kindred spirit.'

As I made my way from the big house to the lodge, I was nervous about meeting this brilliant poet. But Hilda turned up late with her juicer and laptop. Within half an hour I knew she was my kindred spirit; by the end of the week, the sister I don’t have.

'Jo Ann Beard’s ‘The Fourth State of Matter’ reads like literary fiction but is actually a true account of a college massacre. Its genre-defying form was a revelation. '

Jo Ann Beard’s ‘The Fourth State of Matter’ reads like literary fiction but is actually a true account of a college massacre in the United States. Its genre-defying form was a revelation. It seemed to give me permission to write about the tragedy in my family.

'Many years ago, I read Faiz and Lorca before embarking on a novel, and I remember feeling fresh, full of wonder, as if I was writing a story for the first time. '

Many years ago, I read some Faiz and Lorca before embarking on a novel, and I remember feeling fresh, full of wonder, as if I was writing a story for the first time. Poetry does that. Reading a collection of poems might then be akin to a blood transfusion.

'I am a planner. But a kind of magic happens in the writing itself, whereby plots I’ve planned veer off in unexpected directions.'

I am a planner. But a kind of magic happens in the writing itself, whereby plots I’ve planned don’t work, or need modifying, or veer off in unexpected directions, not to mention the pesky characters. They have an annoying habit of being autonomous.