Welcome to my blog, the place where I all too infrequently muse about my writing journey.
For me, writing a good novel is similar to reading one – you get sucked in, want to get further into the plot and ultimately discover whether the hero gets the girl/guy, survives / flourishes or dies a horrible death. Once I start writing a good yarn, I struggle to stop, even for food breaks. I suppose my reason for telling you this here is that I hope you will bear with me if I don’t update this site as often as I should.
You may want to know a little about me so here’s my bio.
Like a lot of people, I went to school, then college and eventually grew up and got a responsible job, a house and a family. And then my mid-life crisis kicked in.
Realising that life was in danger of becoming all too serious, I started writing. Not in the way that Forrest Gump started running, but at least I started. I wrote on steamed up mirrors in the bathroom to make my kids smile. Eventually I graduated to making up stories to entertain my boys at bedtime. For some reason, the little terrors didn’t seem interested in my tales of every-day life, relationships, family, trauma, farce and the occasional bit of debauchery. They told me they preferred JK someone or other.
Following my short-lived career as a children’s author, I now concentrate on writing stories for grown-ups. I write for people who have lived, loved, worked, strived and suffered – people like me. People like you.
I am told I have a gift for finding humour where others just find pain; and also for finding pain where others find humour.
I live in south west London with my two boys, my dog and a constant stream of take-away delivery people.