It Seemed To Him A Very Edinburgh

I've Always Written. At The Age Of Six Or Seven, I Would Get Sheets Of A4 Paper And Fold Them In Half, Cut The Edges To Make A Little Eight-page Booklet, Break It Up Into Squares And Put In Little Stick Men With Little Speech Bubbles, And I'd Have A Spy Story, A Space Story And A Football Story.

Rebus Was Eating Breakfast In The Canteen And Wishing There Was More Caffeine In The Coffee, Or More Coffee In The Coffee Come To That.

I'm Often Asked How I Write Books, But I Don't Think My Approach Is Suitable For Everyone. If I Walked Into A Creative Writing Class, All I Could Say To Them Was 'i Tend To Make It Up As I Go Along.' I'm Not Sure That's Brilliant Advice.

You Need A Great Idea, But Then You've Got To Carry It Through. If You Get It Right, You're Going To Be A Critical Success. But Not Everyone Who Works Hard Gets It Right, Or Has The Success They Deserve: There's An Element Of Luck.

Was It All Inevitable, John?" Reeve Was Pushing His Fingers Across The Floor Of The Cell, Seated On His Haunches. I Was Lying On The Mattress. Yes," I Said. "i Think It Was. Certainly, It's Written That Way. The End Of The Book Is There Before The Beginning's Hardly Started.