I need to know what my editing voice is

I find that you’re a completely different person as a maker than you are as a listener. That’s one of the reasons I so often leave the studio to listen to things. A lot of people never leave the studio when they’re making something, so they’re always in that maker mode, screwdriving things in - adding, adding, adding. Because it seems like the right thing to be doing in that room. But it’s when you come out that you start to hear what you like.

I want my readers to laugh sometimes. Many readers in Japan read my books on the train while commuting. The average salaryman spends two hours a day commuting and he spends those hours reading. That’s why my big books are printed in two volumes: They would be too heavy in one. Some people write me letters, complaining that they laugh when they read my books on the train! It’s very embarrassing for them. Those are the letters I like most. I know they are laughing, reading my books; that’s good. I like to make people laugh every ten pages.

Sometimes you don't even need your friend to say yay or nay, you just have to hear yourself expressing it out loud to another person that's never heard it before. And I particularly like doing the out loud bit. I like my sentences to sound good.

The only experience I’ve had, in the early 90s I was working in the theatre and I went through a very bad period, 3 or 4 years, of dread inducing panic attacks before going out on stage and then I got an international film career and they sort of disappeared [laughter].

There’s been a lot of stuff that I turned down.

A panic attack on stage during The Importance Of Being Earnest. Well, it felt like death.

I tend to shape my life through aesthetic principles rather than economic ones – I’ve never been very good at maths.

It’s not sudden.

A lot of my decisions are made by instinct – you have a hunch.