Archive material is vital to the writer of historical fiction.

— Sara Sheridan

As a historical novelist, there are few jobs more retrospective.

— Sara Sheridan

As a historical novelist, there is very little I like more than spending time sorting through boxes of old letters, diaries, maps, trinkets, and baubles.

— Sara Sheridan

As a novelist it is my job to tell stories that inspire and entertain, but I am increasingly mindful that many of these historical tales (which of themselves are fascinating) relate directly to our issues in society today.

— Sara Sheridan

As a reader you recognize that feeling when you're lost in a book? You know the one - when whatever's going on around you seems less real than what you're reading and all you want to do is keep going deeper into the story whether it's about being halfway up a mountain in Brazil in 1823 of in love with a man you aren't sure you can trust or fighting a war in the last human outpost, somewhere beyond the moon. Well, if you're writing that book it's real for you too.

— Sara Sheridan

As it stands there is a very strong argument that as the book trade becomes increasingly corporate it's our literary heritage that is at risk - a vital part of our culture.

— Sara Sheridan

At length, when I considered it, I realized that the best of my actions were small things. Picking flowers and cooking food for my mother when she had been unwell, spending an afternoon with the children, sending money to my sister or kissing Henry’s tiny head as he slept in the nursery before I left. I thought of every detail and afterward I felt better. Hellfire and brimstone have never appealed to me and I admit I become easily confused thinking of right and wrong. But I do understand kindness.

— Sara Sheridan

At the end of the day, that's what a family is - a group of different people who accept each other.

— Sara Sheridan

Aunts offer kids an opportunity to try out ideas that don't chime with their parents, and they also demonstrate that people can get on, love each other and live together without necessarily being carbon copies.

— Sara Sheridan

A vision of the little house in Soho flickered across his mind’s eye, his mother at a desk, writing in her journal, with hazy sunlight streaming through the morning windows. The woman inhabited a world he had once thought his own – a world of publishers and reliable suppliers. A London that was confident and competent amid its gray, puddle-strewn streets.

— Sara Sheridan