We do of course write all the time and some plot threads have come to me on the 313 bus or the train into Finsbury Park. But to turn the ideas into words that are mainly in the right order requires somewhere pleasant to work. Fine literature that ends up on the GCSE syllabus may be written by a consumptive, high on Laudanum, in a drafty garret room. But if you want to produce something readable and popular I’d recommend a bit of comfort!
There are days when the magic happens. I look at the clock and realise two or three hours have gone by without me realising. There are a thousand more words written on my latest chapter, the tea I poured has gone cold, there are twenty notifications piled up on Facebook, yet to me the time flew by so fast I barely noticed its passing.
Ed June 2014