That went on for some years. So many that I thought: Okay, this must be life. It depressed me a little, I am ashamed to say, to think that was it. I was reasonably successful, and from all the indicators it seemed like I would go on being moderately successful. I started to travel, always because of writing, and all that I saw and did was woven into my work. I was content, but somehow I had lost that sharp beautiful painful delight in life that I had earlier on.

Then I went to Estonia to a UNESCO conference to read an excerpt from one of my books and I fell in love and suddenly everything – I mean EVERYTHING – changed. I started living big chunks of time overseas, I had a live-in partner, and then I had a daughter. And all of a sudden I was back to fitting writing in around everything else.

In a funny way, though, I really do miss those wonderful years when all I did was write, and I miss the deep immersion they allow pretty badly sometimes. But I find this life of having to fight for time to write more invigorating and ultimately satisfying. It felt like it was almost too easy for a while. Looking back, I was living this idyllic unreal sort of life where I was detached from reality, not just distracted from it. It was maybe a bit bloodless. But now I am in the midst of life, red in tooth and claw, and when I write, I still hurl myself down the mountain face, hoping not to fly off a cliff or smack into a tree. And life seems painfully, sharply beautiful and precious again …

You divide your time between living in Australia and overseas. How does this ongoing change of environment influence your writing?

It strips you down. It takes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to be vulnerable. It makes you see and feel and hear more vividly. And you see and hear and experience things you would not experience any other way.

You’ve created so many memorable characters throughout your writing career. Which of your many characters burns brightest in your mind and why?