‘Whittling up’ was something I encouraged authors to do, as I worked with them through multiple drafts. There’s something here, I’d say, pointing towards a description, a word choice, or a particular passage. Go towards it, see what’s there…

Thinking about friendship now, I think about the ways in which we are able to do things with others that we could never do on our own. The way that friends drag unknown parts out of our bodies, allowing us to be braver than we can feel by ourselves.

If I am not enough, then what am I? If I change who I am, will they accept me? If I tone down this part of me, and emphasise that part, if I omit the reality of my own experiences—and give them something resembling their own—will they finally let me in?

What would happen if writers were forced to not over-think, to not over-knead the dough, to just write a story straight through? I emailed four authors and asked: ‘If we supply a prompt, will you write us a story in a night?’ In retrospect, I am both surprised and not-surprised that they all agreed to give it a go.

In my mid-twenties I spent three years writing a novel – and the novel was shit. I had always considered myself as someone with good taste, and when I finished the book I could see that it wasn’t living up to my refined standards. In fact, it wasn’t living at all.