By the time I finished my lips were withered from having a rollie clamped between them. Sometimes I was there at one am and I’d get up and start again at eight the next morning. I was smoking heavily at the time and would get up, bounce out of bed and light a fag, sit at the machine and start for the day. I was doing a PhD and just stayed at home and wrote. I promised to re write it and send it on. The first two told me no thanks and the third asked to see the rest of it. I wrote the first three chapters of the book and sent them off to literary agents picked out of the talking pages by an operator. I spent a lot of time thinking about writing, composing lines in my head and day dreaming about hours of blank time in front of the computer. I was working as a hapless academic at the time but only really had one eye on my job. “ Garnethill started as a last-ditch effort to get the idea of writing out of my head.
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