I remember we moved to a new house, my husband Max and I.

I kept smelling gas in the bedroom for weeks. Apparently, I was the only one who felt something was definitely not alright with the house. Finally, Max agreed to hire workers for inspection. Only after the floor was disassembled could we see that the previous team of builders left an open pipe. That is where the gas was coming from.

You were asking me where I take the plots of my novels from. From life. Those were the gas murder scenes from Dumb Witness and The Murder at the Vicarage.

I never perceived what I was doing as a job, career. Writing has always been my hobby, the room for showing my creativity. Have I been paid for the novels? Of course. Yet, it has not been an end in itself.

My literary heritage is 66 novels and 12 storybooks. I gave myself a promise: one novel per year. Now it might sound not so impressive, but remember, dear, I had a family to look after. Plus, all-year round expeditions with my husband could not satisfy my basic writer’s needs: silence and a stable workplace. But once I did have all that, nothing could disturb me.

My recommendations for future writers? Do not add too many storylines into a novel. Concentrate on the main line adding just a bit, one or two extra ones. The more stories you add, the higher the chances for you as a writer to get tangled in the plot. Now, my favorite advice: remove all direct preachments. The moral is one thing; readers can easily extract it from the text themselves. But imposed moralism is a totally different thing that can make your reader put the book off. It is quite ineffective for a young writer to consider himself a genius.

Oh, and once you get famous and the publishing houses will start fighting over your novels, get yourself an agent. I made a mistake signing up my first contract myself. The publisher used some tricky paragraph in the contract to leave me no royalty for The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Later on, with the help of Edmund’s diligence (my agent), the same book brought me 500 pounds. I must say, dear, that was a huge sum of money. I could finally make a deposit for my own car!

To be frank, I had an amazing life. I was doing what I loved the most – writing – and I was getting paid for it. I was working on the novels, going for archaeological expeditions with my husband, travelling to several continents…

Travelling and writing – this is what I wish to every young writer out there.

Yours faithfully,

Agatha Christie