Nico Drew writes about life after the reset button gets hit, divorce, dating apps, awkward texts, and the quiet comedy of midlife reinvention. His debut novel, The Middle Swipe Crisis, turns a personal tale of a recently single dad’s chaotic return to dating into something painfully honest and unexpectedly funny.
He lives in Manchester in the UK, splits his time between co-parenting and coffee refills, and still hasn’t figured out if “seen” means ghosted. Writing came after a decade of trying to laugh through real-life messes and deciding to put some of them on the page.
He talks about midlife burnout and why the best stories often start with a terrible date. He’s currently working on a follow-up that may or may not involve goats, an unexpected trip to South America and a badly timed text from an ex.
What inspired you to start writing this book?
Honestly, it started with a mix of heartbreak, boredom, and bad Tinder dates. I’d just come out of a divorce and was thrown into modern dating, feeling like I’d missed a decade of updates. Most nights felt like a mix of comedy and quiet crisis. I began writing down the strange, funny, and awkward stuff that happened. At first, it was just a way to make sense of things. Then I realised there was a story worth telling. Not just mine, but something more about midlife, parenting through the chaos, and trying to feel human again when everything’s changed.
Tell us the story of your book’s current title. Was it easy to find, or did it take forever?
It took forever. I had at least twenty bad titles in a notes app somewhere, most of them trying too hard to be clever or literary. For a while, the working title was something vague and moody that didn’t match the tone at all. Then one day I was describing the book to a mate and said, “It’s basically a midlife swipe crisis,” and we both paused. That was it. The Middle Swipe Crisis landed in the way the best titles do, accidentally, but with the right kind of sting.
Describe your dream book cover.
Something that feels honest and a bit sad-funny at the same time. I pictured a man in his forties sitting alone in a dimly lit kitchen, lit only by the glow of a rice cooker. Steam rising like thought bubbles. The kind of image that tells you this guy is trying to figure things out, probably not very successfully. I didn’t want anything glossy or over-designed. Just something that reflects the quiet mess of post-divorce life, tired, awkward, and still holding onto some kind of hope.
If your book had a soundtrack, what are some songs that would be on it?
It would be a mix of dry humor, emotional bruises, and late-night overthinking. A bit scruffy, a bit hopeful. Something like:
“Dry the Rain” – The Beta Band
For those small, weird moments when things almost feel okay.
“Heartbeats” – José González
Quiet heartbreak, but beautiful with it.
“You Can Call Me Al” – Paul Simon
Midlife confusion in upbeat form.
“Someone Great” – LCD Soundsystem
That sense of loss you can’t quite name, wrapped in synths.
“Mr. November” – The National
For the inner panic that doesn’t show on the outside.
“Everything Now” – Arcade Fire
A swipe-era anthem. Too much choice, not enough connection.
“Slow Burn” – Kacey Musgraves
A song for pacing yourself, even when it hurts.
“Don’t Delete the Kisses” – Wolf Alice
Modern romance in all its messy, uncertain glory.
It’s basically the playlist Dave would put on, then pretend was random if someone walked in.
What books are you reading (for research or comfort) as you continue the writing process?
Bit of both, to be honest. For comfort, I always go back to Nick Hornby. High Fidelity and About a Boy still do the job, funny, sad, self-aware in a way that doesn’t beg for attention. I’ve also been reading Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love again. It’s brutally sharp and surprisingly warm, which is what I try to aim for in my own stuff.
For research, I dipped into books about masculinity and mental health. The Descent of Man by Grayson Perry stood out. Not preachy, just honest about the pressure cooker a lot of men live in without knowing it.
And every now and then, I read something wildly different—sci-fi, poetry, whatever—to remind myself how many ways a story can be told.
What other professions have you worked in? What’s something about you that your readers wouldn’t know?
I’ve worked in emergency planning, which means a lot of risk assessments, crisis scenarios, and trying to get people to take things seriously before something goes wrong. It’s less dramatic than it sounds, but oddly helpful when writing about emotional disasters.
Something readers might not know? I once tried stand-up. Just once. It went badly enough that I now stick to putting jokes on the page, where no one can heckle me in real time.
Who/what made you want to write? Was there a particular person, or particular writers/works/art forms that influenced you?
It wasn’t one big moment. More like a slow build-up of stories I wasn’t seeing, especially about men at midlife who are trying their best, messing it up, and still holding on to a bit of humor. Writers like Nick Hornby and David Nicholls definitely shaped how I think about tone. I’ve always liked that mix of funny and emotionally sharp without getting sentimental.
But honestly, a lot of it came from life at home. Being a dad to my two kids, who are the influence for Tom and Sophie in the book, changed how I saw everything. The chaos, the honesty, the way kids just say things that cut through all the adult nonsense, it all found its way into the book. They don’t know it, but they’ve written half my material.
Where is your favorite place to write?
At the kitchen table, usually when the house is quiet and everyone else is asleep or distracted. It’s not glamorous, but it’s where most of the good stuff happens. There’s something about low light, a half-warm cup of coffee, and zero expectations that makes it easier to get words down. I’ve tried cafés and writing retreats, but nothing beats home when the mood’s right and no one’s asking where their school jumper is.
What advice would you give your past self at the start of your writing journey?
Stop trying to write something impressive. Just write something true. Don’t waste time chasing perfect sentences before you’ve nailed what the story actually is. Trust your own voice, even when it feels too plain or too weird. And don’t wait for permission, no one’s going to tap you on the shoulder and say, “Now you’re a writer.” You just have to start and keep going, even when it’s a bit crap. Especially then.
What’s one thing you hope sticks with readers after they finish your book?
That it’s okay to be a mess. You can screw things up, feel lost, make bad decisions and still be trying. Still be worth something. I hope readers come away feeling seen, maybe laughing at the same time they’re wincing, and realising they’re not the only ones figuring it out as they go.