Books have been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories before I started school are of my mother reading Ivor the Engine
and the Dorrie the Little Witch
books to me and my brothers, and my father talking about his favourite stories as we visited the local library. Writing isn’t something I ever ‘decided’ to do, it’s something I’ve done for so long I can’t remember a time when I didn’t make up stories. It’s such an important and all-consuming part of who I’ve always been, that trying to imagine not writing is like trying to imagine not breathing!
I suppose I always thought that since writing was something I did anyway, it was something I could do on the side as an adult while I did other things. It was only when I grew up that I realised that regardless of how natural it feels, writing is a skill that requires time, effort and dedication to get right, and novel writing is a craft that must be practised daily, in the same way that a musician practises and performs. Writing as an adult has been harder work than I ever imagined as a child, but it has definitely been worth the effort.