Check this out from the Guardian, Ledbury Festival.
Me? On a train, on a plane, in hospital, on a bus, in a car (not driving) nowhere really weird that springs to mind.
What were your worst books of the decade?
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The struggles of an emerging writer to get published. What exactly is it that I'm emerging from? Some kind of primeval literary goo?
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Lots of Car parks, and my bed - very late at night - 9.30 pm sometimes.
Temple bar at five in the morning, on the bus, the back of an ambulance, on white water in the French alps, the toilet, and workshops.
Sometimes I do it while waiting for the traffic lights to go green
Now I think of it, car park at the centre for the blind and at poetry and fiction readings.
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