Tuesday, 18 June 2013


I totally surprised myself today when I started the next chapter of The Epic and it totally ran away from me!  It seems there is some secret telepathic bond between my pen and the notebook, to which I am not privy.  Do other writers find this?  My pen is creating unbelievable sentences and paragraphs which actually have a life of their own - and which have a quality to them that I cannot, in all honesty, say I recognise as mine.  So where are they coming from?  When I first began this story, I had no idea where it would take me (and I still don't) or how long it would be (and I still don't).  But I do know this first 12,000 words plus are Part One.  What will happen when we get to Part Two and beyond is anyone's guess.  It feels a bit like it did when I read the first Harry Potter book (before it became the phenomenon it has I am rather proud to say).  I didn't have a clue where that would lead me either - but I know that several years later I queued at W H Smith's at midnight in order to catch  the first hard back copies of The Deathly Hallows when it was launched.  Maybe next time I queue at midnight outside W H Smith's it will be for the launch of my Epic?  Hey - why not?  I walked into Foyles in London just after my first Yucketypoo book was published and came out with a copy of it clutched tightly in my mitt (and a very stupid grin all over my face!) - so stranger things have happened!

I love being a writer, you know.  I mean just in case you haven't guessed yet.  Even when my pen (and my creative juices) dry up and I get all cross and frustrated - I still love it.  It truly is my passion.  I can talk for hours - not specifically about my work - just about Writing.  To me it is the very essence of me and all that I hold precious.  And if I can share that and help others to feel that magic, then I will do so with all my heart until my last dying breath!  Okay I never made it big.  Nobody has ever heard of me (although I was once asked for my autograph which was quite an experience).  I have never - or probably ever will - reached the dizzying heights of J K Rowling, Philip Pullman or Stephen King.  But you know what?  I am honestly rather pleased about that.  Because it means I have time to engage in my dream.  I never said I was a famous writer.  Just a Writer!

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