Three things with Liane Moriarty: ‘There is a 55-year-old man out there with a dark secret’
In our weekly interview about objects, the bestselling author tells us about a romantic writing trick and the old telegram she’d save from a fire
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Liane Moriarty is hot property. Screen rights to all nine of her novels have sold – Big Little Lies was given the HBO treatment in 2017, Nine Perfect Strangers became a miniseries in 2021 and several more adaptations are on the way, with A-listers like Nicole Kidman and Blake Lively optioning the remainder of Moriarty’s back catalogue. The rights to the Sydney-born author’s latest novel, Apples Never Fall – released last year – have already been snapped up by London studio Heyday Television.
But even outside the small screen, Moriarty’s CV is awe-inspiring: her books have sold over 20m copies worldwide, with Big Little Lies making her the first Australian author to have a novel debut at number one on the New York Times bestseller list. Despite her incredible success, Moriarty is a private person who generally prefers to stay out of the limelight. She will, however, take the stage for a session at Sydney writers’ festival on Sunday 22 May.
Related: Three things with Natalie Bassingthwaighte: ‘I thought oh, surely I won’t burn myself again’
To keep the page-turners coming, Moriarty commits to writing a new novel every two years (or so). The trick to staying on schedule is an hourglass that she keeps on her desk. Here, she tells us about the romantic appeal of that tool, as well as the story of two other important personal belongings.
What I’d save from my house in a fire
My father’s ashes. Mainly because I know Dad would be tickled by the idea of me saving his ashes from the ashes.
He liked to tell a story of how his friend, a pilot, was hired by a man wanting to scatter a relative’s ashes from an aeroplane. When the sombre moment arrived, the ashes instantly whooshed back into the poor man’s face. My Dad thought that was hilarious. So we won’t be flying his ashes anywhere.
For now, they’re just waiting on a side table together with a few keepsakes like his last lift ticket from the snow, a ‘best dad’ gold trophy we once gave him for Father’s Day, one of his old passports that expired in 1985, and a telegram he sent my mother in 1969 after he finally passed his surveying exams. It says: ‘MADE IT AT LAST, REGISTERED SURVEYOR.’
I’d scoop up all those mementoes too, but if things were getting dicey maybe I’d just take the telegram, which is strangely precious to me.
Related: Apples Never Fall by Liane Moriarty review – overgarnished but pyrotechnic family drama
My most useful object
The beautiful hourglass that sits on my desk next to my computer. It was a birthday gift from my friend Marisa. I love it because I use it to trick me into writing. The rule is that I have to keep typing – anything at all, even if the words make no sense – until the last grain of sand falls. It helps me lose my sense of self. I know I could set a timer on my phone but where would the romance be in that?
The item I most regret losing
When I was four, I was the prideful owner of a beautiful giant marble. My mother said: “Don’t take your beautiful giant marble to preschool, you will lose it.” But I wanted the other kids to envy and covet my marble. So I took it to preschool and lost it. I was heartbroken.
I can still see the wondrous swirls of colour contained within its smooth, cool glass. I can also still see the face of the evil little boy who I’m pretty sure stole it. There is a 55-year-old man out there with a dark secret and to him I say: you know who you are and what you did!
Sometimes I buy expensive glass ornaments simply because they remind me of my beautiful marble and I reminisce about the one that I never saw again – and my family all exchange glances, as if to say: “She’s lost her marbles.”
