Tag Archives: Writing process

What’s the problem with being up a mountain with no phone signal or orienteering skills?

It has begun to rain. The wind comes in cycles – building, building – so that at its peak my body wobbles and I contemplate the steepness below me: images of tumbling headfirst down lumps and bumps, through sharp grass. … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

Don’t let fear keep you tied up

My trip is over. It’s hard to return from travelling, shifting from spontaneous movement back into a more fixed routine. But it’s a treat to know how much I’ve been missed. Thank you followers for all your wonderful messages!   … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 49 Comments

Playful child and iron teacher: the two halves of the writer

I was nine when a new games mistress arrived at my school. She was a grey-haired woman, although she wasn’t old; I could tell because her eyebrows were black. Her bum was boxlike, giving an impression of very little waist. … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 39 Comments

What happens when a character’s skirt gets hitched in her knickers?

Character is arguably the single most important component of the novel…nothing can equal the great tradition of the European novel in the richness, variety and psychological depth of its portrayal of human nature. David Lodge    When I was ten, … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 56 Comments

Try to get ahead too fast and you might end up with your trousers round your ankles

When I left drama school, I expected to become a successful actress immediately. I sent my headshot to directors and agents. Every time the phone rang, my heart convulsed, but usually it was my mother, wanting to know about my … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 72 Comments

Throwing away material without a sense of failure

When I finished my Masters in Creative Writing, three agents wanted to meet and talk about my novel. I remember thinking: I’ve made it! Despite being tongue-tied in one interview, turning up a week early for another, and being paranoid … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 82 Comments

The boy whose butter I ate: writing from the inside out

When I was fifteen, I wanted, with a desperate force, to fall in love. This desire was mirrored over a decade later – though it wasn’t love I was urgently wishing for, but a career as a writer. In the … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 62 Comments

What we write about when we write

A sheet of A4 is pinned beside the bar. It hangs loose against the stone wall. There’s an image of a four or five year old in an orange sundress. I notice a plaster at the top of her arm. … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

A place to write

Daphne du Maurier was five when she first discovered Cornwall. That summer, she had watched as the gardener caught a snake in the grass of her Hampstead home. He nailed it to a tree, standing back to watch it writhe. … Continue reading

Posted in History, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Does anyone else feel guilty when they see a police car?

When I was seven, I told my mother I wanted a willy. It looked so much easier for my brother. On family walks, having to squat down in the grass, I would often pee all over myself, or down the back … Continue reading

Posted in Essay, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments