And what amazes me as I hit the motorway is not the fact that everyone loses someone, but that everyone loves someone. It seems like such a massive waste of energy -- and we all do it, all the people beetling along between the white lines, merging, converging, overtaking. We each love someone, even though they will die. And we keep loving them, even when they are not there to love any more. And there is no logic or use to any of this, that I can see.

I never wanted to be mainstream as a writer, but look at what's happened.

I think it’s very important to write a demythologized woman character. My characters are flawed. They are no better than they should be.

I find being Irish quite a wearing thing. It takes so much work because it is a social construction. People think you are going to be this, this, and this.

I think writers worry that you might not exist in some strange way if you're not writing.

I have a small room to write in. One wall is completely covered in books. And I face the window with the curtain closed to stop the light hitting the computer.

Nothing had happened yet in my life except the need to get out of it.