How to read like a Booker Prize judge – according to Chris Power
From finding five minutes every day to always taking notes, here are eight ways to make more time for reading and enjoy great conversations about books

Opinion
Behind every Booker Prize novel are routines and rituals that define the work. Here, 12 authors and translators reveal how they shape a story from beginning to end
‘A good writer needs a good rubbish bin,’ said Richard Flanagan, speaking backstage at London’s Guildhall after winning the Booker Prize in 2014. ‘I don’t think I’m much of a writer, but I’m a better re-writer,’ he added wryly.
Jokes aside, Flanagan’s sentiment captures something essential about writing life: it is rarely straightforward, but shaped by habit and a constant urge to improve.
Perhaps you are working on your own book and looking for inspiration, or simply curious about how real writers get words on the page. So, if you’ve ever wanted to get inside the mind of a Booker or International Booker Prize-nominated author, you’re in the right place. From silence and structure to cats, coffee, and carefully built routines, we’ve gathered 12 pieces of advice from fiction’s most acclaimed writers.
Chigozie Obioma, author of The Fishermen
‘I like to write very early in the morning. Nowadays, I write early in the sunroom attached to the side of my house in Athens, Georgia. I watch the sun in its rising, and that does something to my mind. I mostly need a stack of long papers and ballpoint pens, 10-point impression. I am not sure why I need to have that specific pen, but this is what I am most comfortable with. I don’t use the laptop until I need to type out what I have written.’
Tiffany Tsao, translator of Happy Stories, Mostly (written by Norman Erikson Pasaribu)
‘I’m not sure if I have a “favourite” place to write, but I have a place where I write most efficiently: the State Library of New South Wales. During the final throes of completing my most recent novel and translation project, I would head down to its bottom levels and type and type, breaking only for lunch.’
Tim Winton, author of The Riders
‘All I need is a chair and a table, paper and pencil. I’ve worked in caves, on boats, by campfires, but the easiest place to get stuff done is in a quiet room.’
Sebastian Barry, author of Old God’s Time
‘I try to set aside a year just for reading and dreaming – that peculiar dreaming of writers. Then a year to write the book, and then a year to reconsider, edit, make raids on the text as it were. Like Billy the Kid. Pat Garrett would be the doubts and worries (quite important, if dangerous). I wait for the book essentially and once it starts, I try to give it its head, as judiciously as possible, hoping it won’t go and gallop off a cliff.’
Chigozie Obioma
© Zach MuellerDavid Diop, author of At Night All Blood is Black
Over time, I have discovered that to write fiction that will satisfy me, I need to compose by hand and not on a computer keyboard. I use specific notebooks and a particular brand of pen. I wrote all of At Night All Blood Is Black by hand before typing it into the computer.
I find that when I’m working on fiction, writing in manuscript leads to a more faithful transmission of whatever images and sensations have inspired me to write the scene at hand. I think this is because I learned, along with everyone else in my generation at least, to write my first words on paper, with a pencil or a pen. The embedded memory of this primal gesture encourages a more precise alignment between my thoughts and their expression.’
Anna Moschovakis, translator of At Night All Blood is Black
‘I essentially have two work modes: in a notebook/out of a bag (which can happen anywhere, including in noisy cafés and on modes of transport) and on a keyboard with all the reference materials I need (dictionaries, any book-specific research, the internet, etc.) near to hand. I guess I toggle between these modes, both out of necessity and because each serves its own purpose.
A typical flow would be: sketch out a ‘bad’ first draft by hand while out in the world; type it into the computer at a desk, researching and editing as I go; print out this draft, put it in my bag, and edit it as I have time during the day (on the subway, on a park bench, at a café or library or bar). I think this last step helps me to step into the role of potential reader, since these are the places where I tend to read books. Then, with this new marked-up copy, the process repeats.
Coffee: yes, lots.’
Elizabeth Strout, author of My Name is Lucy Barton
‘All I need to write is to have no one talking to me. I have written on subways, in restaurants, in my studio (the best!). But all I need is paper and a pen, or my laptop and nobody needing me at that moment.’
Roddy Doyle, author of Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha
‘I write from about 9am to 6pm, Monday to Friday. When I started writing fulltime, I had children to get to school and the same children to feed and entertain and get to bed later in the day, so it made sense to fit in with the family routine. It still does, even though the routine is a different thing these days. I’m not as strict with the time. Actually, I’m a lot less strict with the time. This is probably the last sentence I’ll write today, and it’s 10:42 am.’
Elizabeth Strout at a Booker Prize 2022 shortlist event in London
© David Parry/Booker Prize Foundation
Samanta Schweblin, author of Little Eyes
‘I’m a morning person (or a night owl, if necessary), but my head isn’t good for writing in the afternoon. The first thing I do before starting to work is put my hair back in a tight ponytail. There’s something about that kind of rigidity in the body that frees the mind, that makes it run faster than ever. It’s as if, when the body is trapped, the mind tries to escape as quickly as possible. It’s silly, but I’m aware that I can no longer write if I don’t tie back my hair. I don’t need silence – I can write when I’m travelling, or in a café, or in a waiting room. I do need some white noise around me, otherwise I have trouble concentrating. I almost always write on the computer, but sometimes, to clarify ideas, I write by hand for a while.’
Megan McDowell, translator of Little Eyes
‘From 10am to 1pm, Monday through Friday, I have an online coworking group that includes Samanta and four other people. They’ve become fundamental to the organisation of my workday, and I don’t know how I got anything done before I had their little faces keeping me company over Zoom. Aside from them, I need: my laptop, my reMarkable [tablet], two cups of coffee, and a fan (it’s hot these days!).’
Marlon James, author of A Brief History of Seven Killings
‘I never remember the process of beginning a book. I remember ending them. I never remember beginning them. And I keep going, oh man, I forgot that this is hard. I don’t like this at all. Figuring out whose story it is, what voice it should be in. Is it third person, second, first? And I don’t have an efficient way of doing it. All I can do is keep writing until I go, this isn’t working, and start over.’
Claire Keegan, author of Small Things Like These
‘I write at home. [Small Things Like These] was written in my sitting room overlooking the Wexford coast, and was completed during lockdown. I wrote for several hours every night and morning during those 18 months, as my fellowship at Trinity College was cut short when the pandemic began and I didn’t have the usual commitments to my students.
If it was at all cold, I kept the fire going. It’s nice to have a fire in the room you’re working in. Long, dark mornings can also be a great help. And a young ginger cat came straight up to me out of the bushes and moved in and slept on an old sheepskin on my desk, as though that’s where he wanted me to be. In the finish, for that final year and more, I was probably averaging eight hours a day at the desk, something I’d never done.’
Samanta Schweblin
© Roberto Ricciuti / Getty Images