Paul Vayro

I can have the spud in chip form, right? That's probably going to be the answer if you ask me that question across a prolonged period of time at random intervals.

If that doesn't satisfy you, probably a pea and a carrot at roughly the same time. I'm a mixed bag of frozen veg kind of guy.

Probably. I have useless tips for every other aspect of life.

Write. It may seem obvious, but do it. Every format, every style, try them all and see what suits you, what allows you to express yourself the best, and most importantly what you enjoy the most. If you come across aspiring actors/film-makers/animators, anything that needs words, offer to do something with them. You may hate it and fail miserably, but at least you'll know what to tick off the list.

Talk to other writers, be it in person or on internet forums, just to remind yourself you're not alone in your quest, but realise most of them will give 'advice' which is just them telling you how they do everything. Writers are very proud of their ways. There is no method other than what gets you to the end of a project. Some people have to write a thousand words a day between 3.06 and 3.32am with their green pencil, others spend six hours staring at a screen, five of them playing Freecell, and only finish half a paragraph. It doesn't matter, and don't get embroiled in debates about whether it does, or what makes a 'writer'. Writing makes a writer, that's it. Being a good one or not is a whole different debate.

Don't be precious about your words. You may fall in love with a sentence but if it needs dropping, it has to be dropped. Save it in another file and stare at it longingly in times of sorrow. And don't fall into the paranoia trap that everyone wants to steal your work. Get it out there, get your style known. It's useless having the greatest manuscript in the world in a secret box, buried under an unmarked grave in Dublin. Equally, you need to find out if your million pound work of genius is actually just tepid wordery.

Accept criticism with the same open arms of praise. They come from the same place. Both contain elements of truth coated in bias and opinion. Shake the seeds of truth from both and assess them. You may not agree, but don't do so out of stubborn refusal to accept reality. If you don't agree, work out why, same if you do. Listen to what people tell you. They're the reader, and a wider audience won't have access to you personally to ask you about the specifics that make chapter six clearer. Chapter six has to be clear to a complete stranger you'll never meet.

Be patient. Don't think the first thing you've written is the launch pad to the rest of your life. Within two years of writing anything you'll see nothing but its endless flaws, whether that's now or when you're eighty, but don't berate yourself for writing something terrible, you will, but congratulate yourself for being able to tell yourself it's no good, and more importantly, why. Every time you let the words out you're learning, so enjoy the process.

Writing is not romantic; days filled with whimsical staring out of the window while a piano plays across broken sunbeams pouring into the conservatory. It's irritating, infuriating, alienating, it borders on insanity, but you do it for your own reasons, and it's obviously worthwhile for you otherwise you wouldn't bother.

In truth, if you've already begun the process, you've probably got more tips for me than I for you.