I was studying sculpture and painting and was working on a degree so I could become a teacher. I really liked teaching, and it was something I was pursuing when I got out of school.

I had a Masters of Fine Arts, but so did thousands of other graduates every year, and we were all competing for the same jobs. I realistically didn't expect to become a teacher, and after two or three years, I accepted defeat.

That's something that seems to happen when I'm writing, where maybe things that don't necessarily make a lot of logical sense are put together, and yet we struggle to make sense of these things somehow. I'm not quite sure why that is it's something about human nature, I guess.

If I had a normal life Id quite cheerfully go mad and fall over right now

I've tried over the years all kinds of ways of going about writing and even just thinking about the idea of writing. There was a time when I decided to try to write a song each day. Whether it was good or bad wasn't important.

When you're born with a tail, you learn to go through doors fast.