Generations of male novelists have been given permission to ignore ‘the pram in the hall’, but times have changed, and the challenges of being a parent can provide great material for artIn my early 20s I felt I had more or less resolved the issue of life-work balance. The point was to work, work like hell, work to the exclusion of all else, to the detriment of health and friendships and sanity, in the hope that I might one day “become a writer”, a mysterious state that stood for future happiness, meaning and self-worth. In retrospect I must have found time for a certain amount of “life”, since I have hazy recollections of parties, and even one or two relationships. But my main memory is of a clear hierarchy. Writing came first. Everything else second.After I began publishing novels, I discovered that becoming a writer was only a prelude to the far more difficult task of being a good one. I furnished an office and developed a fussy set of routines and rituals. Though I had every amenity, my daily word count was no higher, and I even found myself a little nostalgic for the days when I’d worked like …read more

Via: The Guardian | Books