Research material can turn up anywhere - in a dusty old letter in an archive, a journal or some old photographs you find in a charity shop.

People make interesting assumptions about the profession. The writer is a mysterious figure, wandering lonely as a cloud, fired by inspiration, or perhaps a cocktail or two.

It may take a village to raise a baby, but hell! it takes an army to produce a book.

I didn't expect to love being online as much as I do. I've met some wonderful people and discovered that however arcane some of my interests that there are people out there who are interested too.

I don't choose between my house phone and my mobile. I don't choose between my laptop and my notebook. And I don't intend to choose between my e-reader and my bookshelf.

Writing about the 1950s has given me tremendous respect for my mother's generation.

Today women have the rights and equality our Victorian sisters could only dream of, and with those privileges comes the responsibility of standing up and being counted.