the track to desired outcomes and futures, does that make them more likely to come your way? I might see myself in different habitats and settings dozens of times through every day, but the abiding, dominant feeling in my own writing life is that not much changes. I don’t lounge in Malibu ocean-front villas with each day dawning as a fresh nibble at everything planet Earth has to offer. I buy a loaf. I pay a cheque in (now and again). I chat with the bookshop owner about how many of his own title he’s sold this week, never more than five or six, but at least he’s selling. I try to work and breathe life into things, most stumble and fall. I understand the allure of grass-is-greener gazing – other places, other faces – but I don’t want to swap the keel and beam of my present life. If I could smash things and start again, I wouldn’t. Here I am trapped in the puzzle, more than content to examine its intricacies, close turnings and mirrored walls.
