Healthy chapter
“They brought us all up to get plenty of fresh air, run around - usually after stray cattle - eat lots of veg and stay away from fake food. My father smoked but gave up when we were kids. He didn’t want us to have a justification for smoking too and it worked, though I know it was really hard for him,” says the 32-year-old, whose debut novel, Solace, won Best Irish Newcomer of the Year at the Irish Book Awards in November. The book was also voted Bord Gáis Energy Irish Book of the Year for 2011.
Belinda, who lives with husband Aengus Woods in Brooklyn, New York, was visiting her parents when news of the book award arrived.
“They took it in their stride. I, on the other hand, took the whole night to accept that someone wasn’t pulling my leg.”
Solace by Belinda McKeon is published in paperback by Picador.
The usual writerly shape. I sit in a hump at my computer all day, and then force myself out for a walk so that I can talk manically to myself in public. Sheer nervous energy (also known as deadline-terror) does the rest of the exercise for me.
Yes, my father has suffered with angina so I’m conscious of needing to keep my heart healthy.
I have a smug and virtuous bowl of porridge with fruit most mornings. Continuing on the smug line, I eat very little processed food.
Chocolate Kimberleys.
I get a regular case of the 4ams, worrying about work mainly. Very unoriginal.
I relax the minute I set eyes on my husband. I know - vomit alert and all that, but it’s true.
Don Draper. What, there have to be others?
Maybe bizarrely, petrol is one of my favourite smells. It reminds me of being a child and hanging around the sheds where my father fixed chainsaws.
I lost someone very dear to me, someone who was hugely supportive and inspirational, at the end of last year. She was a whirlwind and a wonder, and I’ve cried a lot since she died. I’ll always miss her.
I’m less than thrilled about several aspects of my appearance, but you know, it’ll do.
Self-pity.
Procrastination.
On this I’ll borrow a line from a friend of mine: ‘You’re in my thoughts and what passes for prayers’.
It doesn’t take much. Company, a good book or a good old gossip.

