![]() ![]() ![]() One man rolled down his window and shouted, asking if I was waiting at the light for any particular shade of green! I sped on my way, but by the time I arrived at work, I had the whole story in my head. Suddenly I could hear car horns sounding around me and realised the stalled traffic had moved on and I was holding up every car behind me. She stopped to buy a newspaper from a stall – I could hear her conversation with the newspaper vendor – and then she walked along the street to a grim, smoke-stained Georgian house, took out an envelope with two keys and entered. I can still see and feel that moment when, in my mind’s eye, I saw a woman dressed in the garb of the mid-1920’s exit Warren Street tube station in London. Nothing was moving so I allowed my mind to drift. However, one day on my way to work – and most writers have day jobs mine was in sales – I was stuck in dreadful traffic. Prior to writing my first novel, Maisie Dobbs, I was a writer of non-fiction, of op-eds, essays and articles, and I thought that if ever I attempted a book, it would be a biography, or on a broad subject in connection with women’s history, which has been a particular interest since childhood. Writing fiction wasn’t something I thought I could do until a character named Maisie Dobbs presented herself for consideration. ![]() ![]() National Emerging Writer Programme Overview. ![]()
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