Alice Albinia – How I Write
I am typing with two thumbs in the early morning; still in bed, half immersed in a hypnagogic state. As…
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I am typing with two thumbs in the early morning; still in bed, half immersed in a hypnagogic state. As…
A friend at Caltech asks, are you a dilettante? You are not. You are very focussed, just not on PhD…
A writer in London has the ever-present possibility of going out of the door and into a space shared with…
He was a publisher of the old school. Full of himself, and expense account beanos. He was dressed for his…
My dreams are often literary, occasionally disturbingly so, like that vivid encounter I had with R. S. Thomas before I…
What if Sir hates it? What if he’s disgusted by the bloodletting, the stakings and beheadings? Not only did you…
As you sit at your desk in Bristol Poly tapping away at that Amstrad, break off for a moment to…
Being an author is a little like stepping into a boxing ring; a few brief moments of adoration before the…
All of these embryonic works have titles and plots, and characters; some of them openings, and some of them, endings.…
Loneliness is the follower of bereavement and isolation; the sequel to so many sad life events. But solitude is a…
In Nabokov, events melt into one another in a way I find dreamlike, and Nabokov, like Graham Greene, did record…
We need to imagine intensely, to identify strongly with the people whom we’re writing about, however uncomfortable or difficult that…