In the summer of 2014, I got word that Liberties Press was interested in publishing my first novel, Eggshells. Three years previously, I had kept notebooks to record conversations I’d overheard on Dublin Bus, along with interesting graffiti and street signs I’d seen in Dublin, and these notebooks formed the basis of Eggshells. I had been made redundant from my abstract writing job in the summer of 2011. The timing was not ideal. I’d bought a house at the peak of the housing market so I was steeped in negative equity; now I’d been laid off in the year unemployment reached more than 14 per cent. The company I worked for was bought up by an American giant which swallowed up our Irish office and...
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