The power of imagination
• As a child I spent most of my day either making up complex daydreams, or rehashing and reworking dreams from the night before, rather than face the dull realities of school. Sorry, teachers. Not all of school, I promise.
In between this I read like I had a book permanently superglued to my hand, which served to expand my imaginative universe a millionfold.
• Flawed characters that feel real are important to me. I don’t feel the need to love the characters I’m reading about, as long as they resonate, and they make me groan quietly in a 'god, that's recognisably stupid' manner. I wanted to read more of these, so I wrote some.
Sex. There, I said it
• I wanted to write teenagers who are driven by obsessive lust rather than teenagers who fall deeply in love. I never loved as a teenager. I lusted, which to me, can be a more dangerous motivator than love.
The power of dream
• A few days ago I would utterly swear on everything I could possibly swear that I woke up because a woman’s voice quite clearly said in my ear, “Laure, she’s coming.” I was alone in my bed at the time, and I don’t believe in ghosts. But I heard her, her voice as clear as anyone’s is while I’m awake.
The brain is an amazing thing. The power of dream is an amazing thing.