Quotes from Sara Sheridan

Writing about the 1950s has given me tremendous respect for my mother's generation.

It seemed to me that these months of watching and listening, second-guessing words and phrases, seeking so much that was new, had somehow changed me.

There was something about Maria Graham that you could believe in – a slice of home. If not unique in her travelling, she was at least extraordinary.

What was it that marked me as a woman and was I prepared to let it go?

I'm very aware we are the first generation ever to have such incredible opportunities to express ourselves publicly to a worldwide audience.

As a reader you recognise that feeling when you're lost in a book? You know the one - when whatever's going on around you seems less real than what you're reading and all you want to do is keep going deeper into the story whether it's about being halfway up a mountain in Brazil in 1823 of in love with a man you aren't sure you can trust or fighting a war in the last human outpost, somewhere beyond the moon. Well, if you're writing that book it's real for you too.

He noticed that he felt calmer now she was here, still in that grey dress with her dowdy hat, the air around her redolent with orchid oil. Perhaps all women in England had this effect. Perhaps they all smelled of flowers and exuded a calm and measured purpose. He couldn't remember.

As a historical novelist, there are few jobs more retrospective.

It occurred to me that as a man I could do anything, everything I wanted.

Like good reading skills, good writing skills require immersion and imaginative engagement.

I'm a professional writer and I consider it part of my job to publicise my work and these days part of that job is done online.

Crime writers, I've noticed, can be jumpy. They live in a world where there are murderers on the loose and they haven't been caught yet!

Women the world over suffer restrictions.

A vision of the little house in Soho flickered across his mind's eye, his mother at a desk, writing in her journal, with hazy sunlight streaming through the morning windows. The woman inhabited a world he had once thought his own – a world of publishers and reliable suppliers. A London that was confident and competent amid its grey, puddle-strewn streets.

If you tempted a poor man with a fortune, who could blame the fellow for taking what he could?

One of my favourite parts of writing is doing the research. It's the door into that magical reading/writing state - the raw material for making the story real.

It was nearly ten years since the peace though her memories of the war still felt fresh.

The net has provided a level playing field for criticism and comment - anyone and everyone is entitled to their opinion - and that is one of its greatest strengths.

People who inspire such contradictory emotions must be worthwhile, I reasoned.

It is strange that what seems at first alien becomes second nature in the blink of an eye.

I decided to coin the term 'cosy crime noir' for Brighton Belle. That is 'cosy crime' for today's sensibilities because there is that slightly edgy element to it.

I have a really vivid imagination and I find it difficult to read scenes of complete graphic violence. That's not to say that graphic violence does not exist. It's just that I find it quite harrowing and I much prefer if it isn't completely outlined for me because my imagination can do that.

I am torn between the freedom of this adventure and the benefits of civilization despite its constraints.

Having instant feedback on twitter to research material I'm considering is an enormous help.