To be honest I'm always a bit surprised because the answer seems obvious. Doesn't everybody want to tell stories? Don't we do it every day in our daily conversations? We sit around relating anecdotes in the coffee room to colleagues or to friends in bars after work, and at home to our families over dinner. We talk about the things that have happened to us or to people that we know, and sometimes we even elaborate a little, not to lie, but to make our story more interesting, a bit more dramatic. What are we doing? We're trying to make sense of our world. We want to talk about what we've seen or heard, the news on television or in the paper, what our neighbours are doing. It helps us to get it all into some kind of perspective, even to clarify how we feel about it ourselves. At least that's my opinion.

Writing fiction novels is in many ways an extension of that process. It's part self-analysis, partly a wider analysis of the world where we live. It's also an expression of our deeply held desires, our fears, resentments, fantasies, and even bitterness. Story-telling can be an escape from the troubles of the real world, as reading can be, but also it can be a way of illustrating a personal view of some aspect of life. Sharing our thoughts is a natural human trait. But as a novelist I can't expect the attention of an audience unless I give something in return. A contract exists between writer and reader. If somebody buys one of my books they are entitled to expect me to provide within its covers an experience that is enjoyable, maybe even meaningful, possibly even profound. I think secretly all writers would like a story they have written to be considered profound. I think I am some way from that yet.

Of course regardless of the deeper aim writing is, for me anyway, an enjoyable way of making a living. I get to travel. I am my own boss as much as anybody is. I have a connection with people all over the world through my books and through this website. And perhaps more than anything else I get to indulge myself. I concoct stories around whatever is on my mind at the time. My subjects interest me.

Writing novels, however, is difficult. Far more so than I ever imagined it would be. It takes tremendous discipline, doggedness and sheer bloody hard work to produce a book. And if, as I do, the aim is to get better at it, then it never really gets any easier. Every time I make some headway, I raise the bar a little.

So why do I do this? I suppose because in the end I find it deeply satisfying.

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