Writers are a solitary breed. We hide in dimly lit rooms, our features cast into dramatic relief by the flickering monitor light as we continually tap tap tap our RSI addled fingers against besymboled (is that a word? It is now!) squares of plastic. This is where we live, undisturbed (if we’re lucky), only rising and engaging with the wider world to make a sandwich or reheat old coffee from the gargantuan pot.