Skip to main content

Posts

Featured

And nine months later… there was a book.

I say nine months but, truth be told, it was nine years and nine months. In January 2012, I started a creative writing course called, ‘Get started, keep going.’ I had already been writing blogs about my life and traveling and I decided to try my hand at fiction for the first time. It was a great course and my teacher even suggested I enter the Daphne du Maurier short story competition, offering to edit the story for me. We were given the title, ‘Rendezvous,’ by the organisers, and I sent off a mysterious story involving a surfer, an abandoned wife, and an ice cream man, set on the cliffs of the north Cornish coast. A month later I heard I’d won, and slightly dumbstruck, I went down to Cornwall to attend the festival, give a speech, receive my prize, and have my story recorded for radio. My teacher immediately told me to start writing my novel in order to keep the interested parties, well… interested. So I did what I was told and started writing. I always knew what my book was going to

Latest posts

Stopping work to write my book.

Traveling during a pandemic

The comfort of strangers

Frustration and rage.

A noisy two weeks in lockdown.

True Colours.

Happiness, therapy and losing weight.

Communal changing rooms and nudity.