I was driving out to the local shopping centre today to pick up some trainers for my son. On the radio there was a broadcast of interviews from the Edinburgh Book Festival. At one point, turning into the car park, I hear this exchange.
“I often feel in your books that you’re trying to evoke a world, a feeling”.
“Yes, I spent a lot of time doing that”.
“You’re also quite good with smells”.
As I’m getting out of the car I become aware I’m ranting to myself. “Isn’t that what all authors do?” I mutter.
I meet eye to eye with the old guy in the car next to me. He’s looking at me with a really confused expression. We exchange ‘Good Mornings’ and go about our day.