22nd May 2015

I am not in Ireland today. More than anything I want to be in Ireland and I want to list reasons (excuses?) as to why I am not, but it is enough to just say that I am not. Instead, I am here, in New York City, in a Starbucks at the corner of 103rd

What’s in a word?

I am in the bank.   “Date of birth?” the cashier asks.   I tell her and she smiles – an action that transforms her from a bank teller into a real person.   “That’s in two days,” she says. “Happy Birthday. Do you have any plans?”   I have plans that involve the cinema,

To the End and Back

 The first time I made the journey was on the train, one of three Irish girls with pale skin and oversized backpacks. Boarding at Penn Station, we’d been nervous, indecisive about where to sit, moving twice before deciding on the four seater nearest the door so we could watch the bags while we stood between

Better late than never

The first time I heard the word “lezzer” I was playing a game called “Home Truth.”  My friends and I played every day for years and that day two of us were hiding in a hedge between two gardens. A boy cycled up the driveway behind us. He was a boy we never asked to

Learning to listen

Last month, I turned 40. Having an age that ends with a ‘0’ makes you think – it makes me think. And the collision of this milestone birthday with the publication of my third novel is making me think about writing, and its place in my life. When people ask if I always wanted to