I’ve got a confession to make. I’m writing a novel. It began as a form of catharsis for the deep grief I felt when my grandfather died two months after I moved overseas to live in London back in 2009. But it’s evolved into an obsession that I can’t shake. Not that I want to. I love writing and always have. It’s what I’ve always done well and goes a long way to explaining why I chucked away a job…