
I became a writer when I was ten years old, the same year that I discovered Agatha Christie – and therefore crime fiction. On Christmas Day 1984, I unwrapped a notebook and a box of pens, and after lunch, while everyone else dozed chipolata-stuffed in front of the TV, I made a nest in the corner of the dining room and began to write my own murder mystery.





I think of writing as a courtship with my characters. I often ask them questions out loud and, usually, after some wrangling, these personas will reveal themselves by page 40. By that point, if I don’t know their deepest desires and what they’ll regret most on their deathbed, I know I am in trouble, that I am missing my mark as a writer…
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