The flip answer is that one January there was such a blizzard I couldn't get to the library and so sat down and began a book of my own. And never stopped writing. But more sensibly, the best advice I was ever given at school was, 'Find out what you like doing most in all the world, and then find someone who'll pay you to do it'. So, since books have always been my greatest pleasure, it's not surprising that I've ended up in a career that entails mostly reading and writing.
I'm a very slow worker. I write in soft pencil, so it's easy to rub out over and over till I feel it's at least halfway right. Even once it's typed up, there'll be layers of changes and additions and corrections. (It is work.) I hated going over things when I was at school. I'd just sit and let it pour out, and if I'd been asked to redraft it, it would have got staler, and worse. But now I enjoy nitpicking till it's absolutely the best I can do. Some books take over a year. Short books for young readers take just weeks or months.
The silence. Working alone. Not having the constant compromises in my work life that most people have. I write the books for me. (Me at 5, me at 14.) Then hope there are readers out there who like the same sorts of books I do.
When I was very young, Enid Blyton. Then Anthony Buckeridge and Richmal Crompton (the William books) and Henry Treece. Later, it was P G Wodehouse and Rider Haggard. Now it's George Eliot, Flaubert, Austen, Thackeray, Tolstoy... I could go on and on. I also read a good deal of biography, autobiography, psychology, crime and poetry. Oh, and the newspapers.
The advice of many of the best writers to children who want to be authors is, 'Don't worry about the writing yet, just read, read, read. Because only if you're a reader will you know whether it's working, and, if not, how to fix it so it does.'
You can't email me but you can always write a letter. Mark it clearly for Anne Fine – Author and send it to me through any of my publishers. (You'll find their addresses in small print somewhere in the front pages of a book.)
As for inviting me for events, I'm afraid I do very few now. Most are arranged through the agency: Speaking of Books, 105 John Humphries House, 4 Stockwell St, Greenwich, London SE10 9JN. Tel/Fax: 020 8858 6616.
Sorry, we don't know, but my webmaster is trying to find out. The problems are only there if you use Internet Explorer: if you have OS X then you can use the Safari browser, which we recommend. The site looks fine on PCs with Internet Explorer. I'm also told the Mozilla, Firefox and Opera browsers work fine on both Macs and PCs.
I feel quite detached from them, as if they have little to do with me. What interests me is why people act the way they do: what's deep inside them, pushing them. Film can't show that. It can show brilliantly what happens. But only the book can explain the complex emotions and (sometimes self-deceiving) thought processes behind those actions.
So, though I quite enjoy watching them, the films people make of my books are, for me, a bit like the fancy icing shell without the cake inside.
No. I just get on with the next book.
ROUND BEHIND THE ICE-HOUSE. Don't ask me why. It's nobody else's. Other people seem to vote for CRUMMY MUMMY AND ME, FLOUR BABIES and GOGGLE EYES.
Bits of them, sometimes. But mostly, as Jan Mark says: 'Writers don't write about people they know. They write what they know about people'.
I spread the six stories out over happy and unhappy families. I admit then research did shock me. I hadn't realised how insensitive some parents can be to children's feelings. I hope the book's a comfort for those in tricky situations, and an eye-opener for everyone else.
There was a time when we couldn't even bump into friends on the street without swapping horror stories about what our teenagers were doing now. It struck me it was the stuff of comedy. And as soon as things calmed down a little, I managed to write it. (Watch out for the handy hint with alarm clocks.)
One of the most famous adult authors was sent home from school for adding juicy bits to his friend's diary. Add that to all the letters I get from children saying, 'I can't think of anything to write', and you have a story.
Colour of hair: |
Mouse - going grey |
Colour of eyes: |
Blue |
Birthday: |
7th December 1947 |
Greatest virtue: |
Cheerfulness |
Greatest vice: |
Sloth |
Deepest wish: |
To be able to sing |
Worst habit: |
Chewing my nails |
Pets: |
Huge hairy dog called Harvey |
Children: |
Two grown-up daughters |
House: |
I live in a stone house by a river in County Durham, and work upstairs, looking over my garden and a park. |
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