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It's hard, isn't it? Difficult, I mean. Staring at a blank page. I'm doing it right now. I've never quite found writing so difficult. The actual physical act of it is easy enough, but these days I don't want to write unless I have something to say that matters. And that's because of two things: one is the times that we are living in, full of lies and division, brimming over with hate and conflict, ignorance and fear of the other as well as the familiar. So, what is a writer to do? My writing has gone through many phases, but it's only in the last few years that I've taken myself seriously enough to think I could write something that matters. Hubris is a dangerous thing. In 2021, my literary historical novel 'A Hundred Years to Arras' came out, trumpets blaring for about two weeks. Plenty has been written recently about my publisher, so I won't comment here except to say that I thought it would be my big chance, a stepping stone to other oppo...