I write from a shed/studio in my garden in Oxford, accompanied by bits of wildlife that creep over the threshold to investigate my biscuit crumbs. A small space, it's perfect for cooking up bigger ones: sprawling, richly dysfunctional families, stories that seed into the cracked mortar of old houses. I love to read about such things, and write about them. I also love a cracking narrative pace. Words that dance on the tongue. Characters you want to scoop up and put in your pocket for safe keeping.
I'm married with three wonderful children.
I'm an unlikely dog owner. I cured my lifetime phobia of dogs with a Golden Retriever called Harry. Now besotted.
Gardens, I'm obsessed. Actually at my happiest with the linguistic bit of my brain switched off, hands in the soil. You should see my Annabelle hydrangeas.
I have to run off my sweet tooth. I also do yoga so I don't seize up over the laptop.
I still dream of Black Rabbit Hall's boot room.
One day I will run away to New York City. Just because.
I'm married with three wonderful children.
I'm an unlikely dog owner. I cured my lifetime phobia of dogs with a Golden Retriever called Harry. Now besotted.
Gardens, I'm obsessed. Actually at my happiest with the linguistic bit of my brain switched off, hands in the soil. You should see my Annabelle hydrangeas.
I have to run off my sweet tooth. I also do yoga so I don't seize up over the laptop.
I still dream of Black Rabbit Hall's boot room.
One day I will run away to New York City. Just because.