How it all started…

…and what got me into writing

When I started writing, a few years ago now – it felt very odd. Whilst I had always enjoyed using words well, I had never dreamed of actually putting stories down on paper. Work and family – these were the things that took my time and occupied my mind.

But being recently required to create an author’s bio caused me to think back to my school days. I still remember being awarded the prize of a toy fire engine for a very early piece of composition. Other prizes followed – I still have a beautifully illustrated edition of ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ inscribed by my headmaster and awarded to me when I was nine. A copy of ‘The Scooter Adventure’ followed.

Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Awarded to me by my headmaster at Birchfield School, Albrighton, near Wolverhampton.

Later, at work, I loved articulating ideas, capturing people’s hearts and minds with the creation of compelling visions that they could believe in and get behind.

So maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea to think I might enjoy writing a novel, even if I found the idea faintly embarrassing. I could almost see the shaking heads, and hear the words of disbelief. ‘You, write a novel. Where did that come from?’ But those close to me were supportive, and I remember sheepishly delivering my first-ever chapter to my wife before hastily exiting the room. The promise to myself was simple: if I enjoyed writing it and it had the merest hint of merit, I would persist and finish the book.

I did finish the book, and writing that opening chapter gave me my first lesson on my author’s journey. It’s not a lesson confined to writing of course, you can apply it to just about anything in life.

‘The Scooter Adventure’

Another prize, and one of my favourite reads as a child.

The lesson is that any journey starts with a small step. You can spend the rest of your life procrastinating, finding excuses not to do something, wracked with doubt. But what’s the worst thing that can happen? I suspect that most of us, as our lives ebb away (hopefully at a ripe old age), will have far more regrets about the things we didn’t do, rather than the things we did.

So here I go! That first novel beckons…