To become a writer, says Picador’s Andrew Kidd, you must become a reader first. And if your book fails, you can also aim to be a reader last. It is a noble thing to be. (The argument is sound, of course, but it leaves a small stain, a bit like a leaky diaper. Or maybe I’m being a little testy. The link was sent to me by my editor who had worked hard on my novel. Is she trying to tell me something?)

There is an old New Yorker cartoon in which a patient sits forlorn on an examination table as a doctor in a white coat says to him something to the effect of, ‘It looks like that novel inside you will have to come out’.

It’s a playful take on a cruel myth: that every one of us could, if only afforded the right circumstances and means, produce a plausible, publishable book. And it’s probably this myth, along with irrational dreams of J.K.-Rowling-like riches, that accounts for the astonishing results of a YouGov poll this August. Ahead of movie, sports or rock star, glamour model or fireman, the most coveted job was ‘writer’.

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