Except something within us which is always surprised by change. Not my words but those of Thomas Hardy. And I certainly agree with the sentiment. In fact, the sheer absurdity of how swiftly time goes – not just the days and weeks and months but the years. The decades. How is it possible, for example, that our children are no longer babes in arms, toddlers, tentative five year olds starting their first term at school? It is such a cliche to talk about how fleeting time is but its cliche status simply confirms its truth. Growing up, listening to parents...

Recently, I came across a post by a literary agency, claiming that the problem with too many fledgling novelists is that their novels are not sufficiently ‘page-turning.’ The article claimed that this was also the affliction of 19th century novelists who created too many diversions in their narratives. The contemporary reader, evidently, has no time for such saggy centres and wants only to progress at lightening speed onto the next page. Our attention span is very limited these days, it claimed, and any author worth his or her salt will appreciate this and move their fiction at a pace that...

There is a phrase which is often heard and frequently repeated that is used to describe people – people from the past who have made a particular impact or have striven and/or achieved something new. Something apparently unexpected. Original. Of course, they were ahead of their time. But it has struck me recently, hearing the phrase used on the radio a couple of weeks ago, how absurd and inappropriate it is. After all, we are all of our time. Whatever Our Time means. Either reflective of it or in retaliation. We are not ahead of it. The conversation that made...

Good literature, people agree, is long-lasting. It rides out fads and fashions so that years, decades, even centuries on, it still speaks truths to us. And I don’t just mean those huge universal themes to be found in Shakespeare – the perils of excessive ambition or jealousy or pride – the fatal flaws of the tragic hero. What I am talking about is the delight that can be felt when a character’s emotions strike such a familiar chord that you long to meet said protagonist for a coffee and chat over matters heart to heart. I have just finished reading...

With all my precious books now packed away ready to be transported to their new home – only a few hundred yards or so from their current one – my thoughts are decidedly switching to where and how they will be displayed on shelves yet to be constructed. And for some of them, in a house built around the times in which they were written. Which got me thinking. My ‘new’ home was, I am reliably informed by a local history book I found in the library, built in 1880. At least I am assuming the information is reliable as...

Anyone who has spoken to me in the past 23 months or so will know that I have become mildly obsessed with moving house. For those who have patiently stayed the course and are still talking to me, watching my anxiety levels escalate as Actual Moving Day begins to seem the stuff of reality rather than dreams, acknowledgement that my obsession has now reached chronic and epic proportions is to be expected. I think, breathe, dream, plan and wake thinking packing cases. Black plastic sacks. Trips to the tip and to numerous charity shops. I even contemplate discarding all possessions...

And so it’s the Autumn Equinox – as unbelievable as it seems to think we’ve reached the point in the year when there are equal hours of light and dark. Another way of looking at it is, of course, that it’s head down now into the tunnel of darkness that comprises winter in the northern hemisphere – until we emerge again come late March … And after ten days or so of blissfully warm, mild and sunny September days, it’s as if the weather itself knows how to play by the equinoctial rules and has thus given us a day...

There are questions that I am frequently asked at author talks and events. What is your writing routine? How many words do you write in a day? Do you plan each chapter? Do you share your writing with a group? And I am sure I am not unique – that all writers are asked these questions and somehow a clear answer is no doubt expected. Perhaps some writers are able to say: Goodness yes! I never leave the house until I’ve polished off 1,420 words – before breakfast, of course! Just as others reliably say: I plan every chapter before...

So summer starts to draw to a close – darker evenings, chill mornings – even if the sun is managing to catch up by mid morning. Returning from an idyllic summer in the Cretan sun where blue skies have been so entirely predictable that after a few weeks they were barely noticeable, the adjustment has been considerable. Yet at the same time couched in a sense that it was time to fit into the groove of home again, of routine. Yet my own home surroundings will soon be changing. Or rather my house will change. For although I am making...