From a building right in front of my windows, I can observe the speed of the sunrises and sunsets. The voices of children playing, laughing, yelling, and crying on the playground crawl up to the eighth floor, where I write. Their voices sound so innocent from a distance.

The decision to write full-time meant I couldn't afford to buy a house. A friend kindly offered me the use of his apartment in a thirty-six-story building full of newlywed couples in the southern area of Jakarta. I didn't like my working space at first, but the scenery and everything going on outside have worked their magic on me.

One of the challenges is creating characters. I am trying to compose my sentences to express epic events happening to ordinary people.

The treasure of a writer is to maintain their own style.

My family is a kaleidoscope... My family is like that. We're all different colors, like a prism. When we have light shine and stuff, we're beautiful. When it's dark, nothing shines, and it's a rock.

Headwise, I always kind of knew that everyone goes grey in our family very early - and I was like, it works for me. I started growing my beard, and it changes the shape of your skull and your face, and I started seeing my mother's side of the family in myself for the first time.

I know what I have to do and I plan to do it. It's a good time to get it done and get it behind me. It's treatable, so why not treat it now? My family will give me comfort but I have to do this alone.

I grew up in a bookless house with a father and brother who have spent most of their lives in prison, psychiatric hospitals, or living rough, and a mother who has spent her life slaving and scrimping to pay the bills, living a nervous and troubled life.