I feel most of my writing career has happened by accident. I think this is so for most writers. We show up, we knock on doors when we aren’t formally invited, we try things, we inch closer to something that feels right and true, we follow an internal compass we don’t fully understand but seems to have purpose. And one day someone like Matty Dalrymple invites you on her podcast to ask you how you became an authority in the thing you do. I would like to send this back in time to Schoolgirl Roz.

Matty and I talk about first jobs. When I first ventured into publishing it was as a temp at a small independent press. I had no great expectations. I was simply grateful for a job that let me use my degree in English, instead of serving in a shop (which I was very bad at). Once I was at the publisher, I knew I’d found my element. I transformed into a creature of ambition. I talked my way into an editorial job and began a wonderful apprenticeship, making novels, magazines, newspapers, guidebooks and how-to manuals. I also had another realisation: this wasn’t enough. I wanted to make books for me. I had always wanted to make books for me.

More stepping stones came along. A rejection from a publisher became a new career opportunity, in which I persuaded an editorial consultancy to hire me to write developmental reports. I wrote a book very fast, which became a ghostwriting career. Opportunities came to me as hunches and urges, and having a go. That’s the cheek part.

And curiosity? That’s how my blog got started, which opened a lot of doors. In 2009 I had a head full of observations and musings about stories – how they work, where writers get bogged down, how we get past our blocks, how we learn what we learn, and what makes a sagging splurged manuscript into a great book. I wanted to write about that, about this work we all do. I still want to write about it. I’m still curious. I’m still doing it. I’m still working with writers. Curiosity never wears out.

There’s lots more besides. It’s a lovely discussion. Do come over.

Nail Your Novel books for writers. My Memories of a Future Life. Lifeform Three. Ever Rest. Not Quite Lost. Turn Right At The Rainbow.

Who was your first writing teacher?

I think mine was my own brain. When I was a child, long before I knew that book-writing was a thing, I could be spellbound by a paragraph in a story, wondering: what just happened to me? How was that done? With only the words in front of me? I’ve had various kinds of teaching afterwards, from commercial editors to wise beta readers, but I’m still on that same self-directed quest.

I’ve just been interviewed by novelist and actor Elizabeth Bruce for her Creativists in Dialogue series – and we got into deep writerly territory.

We talk about the internet and creative independence; why I’m devoted to close third person; how I manage multiple viewpoints without playing favourites; and the challenge of seeing every character as right from inside their own head. How do I know when a book’s finished? We talk about that too.

There’s also an excerpt from my novel Ever Rest where I explore the emotional permafrost of envy, grief, love and old grudges. We talk speculative fiction, too—particularly Lifeform Three, which imagined humans increasingly nannied by technology and now seems to be coming true.

And because every creative interview needs a dash of quirk, I explain why writing a novel has much in common with training a horse. Both are long games. Both require attention, patience and a willingness to learn from the days when apparently nothing happens.

Do come over.

Nail Your Novel books for writers. My Memories of a Future Life. Lifeform Three. Ever Rest. Not Quite Lost. Turn Right At The Rainbow.

While we must read in order to be able to write well, that’s not the whole story. Our fiction also comes from more mysterious and remarkable processes of curiosity, empathy, intuition and creation. We make it up - we don’t just process what’s been made before and serve it with new trappings. And where do we get those extra ingredients?

That’s what I’m talking about today on my blog. Where do you get ideas for characters? Why you must look at life, not just books.

Do come over.

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I started at the same time, and though I didn’t hit Hugh’s boggling heights (literary is not mass market, alas), I owe my career to the tech of that golden era.

Now we’re entering a new era where the tech has evolved into something else – a monster that can produce books faster and cheaper than any human and not just flood the market but drown it. That’s not good news when so many writers are already struggling to sell their honestly written books.

Right now Hugh notes there’s a pretty uniform outcry about AI writing, and a vast climate of suspicion which is already having consequences, but Hugh guesses these books will take hold whether we like it or not. Some people will like them. Hugh has already seen this in the chess community – ‘where fans of the game fall in love with a particular engine and become huge fans of the “way they think”’.

(I urge you to read Hugh’s post; there’s a lot more https://hughhowey.com/the-end-of-an-era/ )

And this brings me to the thing that may still save us, may still give us a place in the creative landscape.

What Hugh is describing is what’s always been constant with any work of art, whether it’s visual, prose or musical: the constant is the creator and their distinctive ways. That’s who the reader, viewer, listener is spending time with. That’s what they seek more of. So some readers might like the work of a machine. Some will come for the person who writes from what’s inside their skull and heart, what’s built there over a lifetime, the person who creates from that, who touches the reader in a way that no machine can, and no other human can either.

Thanks for reading.

If you want to know more about the books I make from my own skull, heart, mistakes and hopes, find novels here and memoirs here. There are also books on writing craft here.

And my newsletter, also from the human frontier. Here.

Writers are drawn to incomplete pictures, to corners that need more light. A friend of mine recently ventured into online dating and glimpsed its sinister underbelly - the scammers who tiptoe into the apps and try to trap the unwary. Fortunately my friend WAS wary, which gave me a ringside seat at state-of-the-art conning, using sophisticated AI techniques.

I was left wondering, though, about the real person behind the messages, who was probably not the villain but another victim. And who, judging by her goofs, was not cut out for that world.

The story is in my newsletter, which has been written with no AI techniques or assistance at all, just the sparks from grey matter to fingers.

Also: my essay ‘Thin Places’ is in a new book about the British author Alan Garner - and I’m rather chuffed about that.

Also also: you can get my memoir Not Quite Lost: Travels Without A Sense of Direction at 60% off!

And there is, of course, a little horse.

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Read it now - free

The mail began: ‘I hope you don’t mind if I ask… but I can’t find the answer anywhere.’

This brave soul reached out through email, thinking he was behind the rest of the class. But actually, his question is one I hear quite frequently in my work as an editor and writing coach.

It’s this:

“What exactly is a scene? And how is it different from a chapter?”

It’s one of those pieces of craft that many experienced writers take for granted, which can leave newer writers feeling they’re missing some secret everyone else understands.

In my latest Nail Your Novel post, I unpack the difference between scenes, summaries and chapters, discuss why pacing is really about change, and why chapter endings aren’t simply places to stop—they’re opportunities to persuade readers to keep going.

I also revisit one of my favourite subjects: the difference between storytelling on the page and storytelling on the screen.

I hope you’ll find something useful. Do come over.

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I found myself in a London theatre watching a play about Philip Larkin while sitting right next to the playwright. I discovered what a cheap burner phone does to ordinary marital texts (EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE AN EMERGENCY). I finally began the first draft of my new novel—only to discover it wanted to become a different book first.

There was also a lovely surprise when broadcaster Simon Bates picked up my memoir on a whim and recommended it on air, prompting a heartfelt review from a listener who took a chance on an unknown author.

And then there was my horse, Val, who taught me something I should have understood sooner: sometimes the smallest changes reveal the biggest truths.

If you enjoy books, writing, odd moments from everyday life and the occasional equine life lesson, it’s all in my newsletter, completely free, here.

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One of the luxuries of writing fiction is our imagination. Even when we borrow from real life, we can still invent the turning points, the character arcs, the resolution that makes a story feel inevitable and well crafted.

Memoir removes that luxury. The events are what they were. It’s like working with footage for a film: no reshoots, no extra scenes, no “perfect” reversal. When I wrote my memoirs Not Quite Lost and Turn Right At The Rainbow, I had to rebuild my narrative toolbox around that constraint—and it taught me three practical lessons about story.

1) Your curiosities are your USP.

2) Structure requires agility.

3) Character can live in scant clues.

I expanded these ideas (with examples) on my FREE blog here: https://nailyournovel.wordpress.com/2026/06/14/when-the-truth-must-out-what-memoir-taught-me-about-story-when-i-couldnt-invent-anything/

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In my latest newsletter: a birthday stay in Grayson Perry’s extraordinary House for Essex, which felt like sleeping inside a concept album; a proper beginning on a new novel that is finally taking shape; thoughts on editing, mentoring and recent book-world conversations; a lovely new review of Ever Rest; and a personal note about my little horse Val, and the strange, moving ways animals tell us what they need.

Read the full post (free) here.

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We don’t often talk about envy as part of the creative life, but perhaps we should.

Not the malicious kind. Not the kind that wants another writer or artist to fail. I mean the small, sharp twinge when someone else has made something wonderful and a part of us thinks: I wish I’d done that.

Writers live in a constant weather system of comparison — reviews, rankings, prize lists, follower counts, book deals, festival invitations, visible momentum. Some envy is simply status envy, and it rarely helps. It says: Why them? Why not me?

But there’s another kind. Artistic envy. The kind that recognises accomplishment, craft, stamina and finish. The kind that sees a completed book, play, film or performance and understands the years of doubt and labour behind it.

That twinge can be useful.

I’ve written about this on Nail Your Novel: The envy that sends writers back to work

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In my latest newsletter, I write about preserved fragments of demolished buildings, a haunting film that moves through vanishing rooms as if walls no longer exist, and the strange way memory keeps inhabiting places long after they are lost.

That sense of being drawn back into former lives, old rooms and half-remembered histories lies at the heart of Turn Right At The Rainbow. In this issue, I also share new reader reviews, a glimpse of current work in progress, recent blog posts on writing craft, and a small dispatch from life with Val, my endlessly wise little horse.

If you’re drawn to books about memory, home, time and the emotional life of places, you can read the full newsletter, completely free, here: Your mind becomes a ghost.

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Why do some drafts feel flat, even when the material is strong? Often it’s not a lack of imagination, but a handful of craft problems that weaken the reader’s experience. In the latest post on my blog I look at five common issues I see in novels and memoirs: abstract emotion, scenes that don’t earn their place, over-complicated timelines, mismatched reader expectations, and characters who are described but not fully brought to life. (This is where the shoes come in.) Most importantly, I suggest practical ways to fix them, so the story becomes clearer, stronger and more compelling.

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This month’s letter contains: a medieval bell tower, fresh love for Turn Right At The Rainbow, a couple of podcast appearances to discuss writing craft for both memoir and fiction, and a small meditation on horses, attention and the kind of presence that creative daydreaming rarely allows - the curious business of being mentally outpaced by a horse.

Also: tea towels and aprons by popular demand.

Come over if you’d like the full wander through bells, books and other preoccupations.

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A good developmental editor should spruce up your manuscript, not shatter your confidence. After hearing horror stories and hard-won lessons at the Alliance of Independent Authors’ Indie Author Lab, I’ve pulled together three candid case studies:

• the writer whose editor’s “feedback” stopped her writing for a year

• the author who tried three sample edits and still couldn’t tell who was a good fit

• the novelist who skipped an editor for book two—and was called out by his own readers.

In this post I unpack what actually went wrong in each scenario, why sample edits for developmental work often mislead, and how to have the right conversations before you hire. If you’re indie publishing (or thinking about it) and want an editor who’s coach, collaborator and safety net—not bulldozer—this is a practical guide to finding your match and knowing when you’ll always need another pair of eyes.

Read the post (free!) here.

Read the post (free!) here

This month my newsletter is about the writerly tension between sensitivity and curiosity - and what that reveals about our drives to write fiction.

Also: two glorious new reviews, an event I’m speaking at, prize-draw winners and a shaky moment with the little horse and two fools with a tarp.

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V quickly: Turn Right At The Rainbow is out today.

I wrote it without any particular market in mind. I don’t know any other books like it. I went where it wanted to go.

So I am massively grateful to see these reviews:

Join us on the journey.

Buy Turn Right At The Rainbow

Tile 23. Gentle atmospheric picture from . Geeky pun from the one and only .

Thank you to all my contributors for your care and creativity. This has been a joy. I'll be putting the tiles together in a finale edition shortly.

My memoir Turn Right At The Rainbow launches tomorrow, March 5th, #WorldBookDay !

Buy it here now

Two new entries arrived last night! So this is Tile 22. We have in Esperanto. in Caran d'Ache. Because home is made from random things that arrive and stay.

My new memoir Turn Right At The Rainbow launches tomorrow, March 5th, #WorldBookDay ! Find it here.

Tile 21! Home finds you. Thank you @Elaina Battista for the canine view, for the snowy arboreal hollow, and my little horse for the muddy squirming.

My new memoir Turn Right At The Rainbow launches on Thursday, #WorldBookDay !

Tile 20! Only a few days until launch.
Today's crop is about the significant moments that gather within our walls.

From left: sent me a sketch of a kitchen gathering by her daughter. @Sandy Spangler sent me a picture she painted during lockdown of some nesting birds outside her front door, about to taste freedom. @Remy Lucot sent me his laptop (cropped out) with a 20-sided gaming die - decisions resting on a favourable roll. @Jennifer Friedman Lang sent me these cups she designed and painted with English, Arabic, Hebrew and French, the languages that span her life.

My new memoir Turn Right At The Rainbow launches on Thursday, #WorldBookDay ! Find it here.