Dorothy Koomson, author of the bestselling The Chocolate Run, takes a leaf out of her own book and reveals what kind she is . . . as well as more of our lovely authors choosing the bar they’d be. Funny how nothing gets us thinking like chocolate. What’s behind your wrapper?

Dorothy Koomson:

To decide what chocolate you are requires a large dash of self-knowledge and a huge dollop of honesty. We dress in clothes that suit us (mostly), style our hair and wear make-up to project to the world a certain image. It’s a brave person who doesn’t have some sort of prop to help present their best side to the world. So, saying what chocolate you are requires setting aside the props and saying with brave frankness: this is who I truly am. Here’s my attempt.

I am multi-layered, ‘deep’ chocolate (I’m not going to say I’m shallow, am I?). I have a layer of marshmallow that makes me gooey and soft and sweet: I get teary at the most unexpected things – most people cried at the end of Dirty Dancing, but I got weepy at the bit where Baby’s sister said she’d comb her hair. I have a layer of peanut brittle: ask anyone who thinks the fact I try to be nice to everyone means they can take advantage of me, how tough I can be. I have a layer of wafer that makes me worry about crumbling under pressure. Dotted into the mix are pieces of Turkish delight: I don’t like Turkish delight and at my age I’ve accepted that not everyone will like everything about me. Their loss, obviously, but I know that it’s a possibility and I accept that.

Finally, I’m wrapped up in a layer of thick, sweet, tasty, organic (!) good-quality chocolate. So, that’s me: a multi-layered, ‘complicated’ chocolate.

You know, all this talk of chocolate has made me crave a packet of salt & vinegar crisps. Oh, did I mention how contrary I can be?

Our authors tell us what they think they’re made of . . .

Lucy Dawson:
If I were a chocolate bar I’d be something dark and very moreish . . . and organic so I could pretend it was good for me.

Martina Reilly:
I’d have to be a Yorkie. My books are not for girls . . . they’re for real women!!!

Kate Furnivall:
If I were a chocolate bar I would be a Marathon. A sweet and slightly wrinkled exterior, but chewy and a bit tough on the inside. Sticks to things with an annoying stubbornness. And definitely nutty. But above everything – what all novelists need to be – a long distance runner. (Yes, yes, I know they’ve changed the name to Snickers – but as I said, I stick to things stubbornly!)

Anna Blundy:
I would be one of those incredibly thin dark chocolate disks that they make in Lyons and that my French exchange, Agnes, who smoked and wasn’t a virgin (when we were fourteen) used to eat after school in a torn-off chunk of baguette. Even now I still wish I was her.

Louise Candlish:
I think when comparing yourself to a chocolate bar you should first be sure it isn’t one that’s been discontinued – that would not bode well. Which rules out my childhood favourite the Cabana (coconut, cherries and caramel, for those too young to remember!). In a way, I’d need to ask the people who know me best. Hopefully no one would say Flake. I would like to think they’d say Crunchie, everyone's favourite, especially on a Friday, but I suspect there may be one or two people who would go for something darker, more bitter, the kind of chocolate where a little goes a long way . . .