2012 was a great year for me. I do realise it’s now actually well through 2013 but I’ve only just been able to pause for breath and try to catch up on everything that’s happened in the last 12 months since I came up with the idea for my first novel and started writing.

I’ve thought about writing many, many times over the years, even started to put pen to paper (that’s so much more romantic than keystrokes on screen, isn’t it?) But, as I’d never come up with a fully formed story before I’d soon peter out and another few years would go past before I’d try again.

Then along came 2012. I’d already been thinking about writing again and had come up with, and discarded, several ideas. Then the gloriousness of that summer somehow freed my mind. The country couldn’t get enough of celebrating with the Jubilee and the Olympics and we were lucky enough to go on holiday immediately following the Closing Ceremony. So there I was lying on a sun bed, albeit in the shade (where I still got burnt!) when my idea started to come together.

Over the week bits and pieces of previously half formed stories started to fit together, plot lines developed, characters emerged, and then evolved into what I needed them to be. It seemed this time as if it was meant to be. Every time a plot line hit a glitch a solution presented itself, and the complete story, which I realised was far too long, naturally divided itself into a trilogy. I came home having not written one word but with my head buzzing with a fully formed story and a desire to get it down on paper (screen) as quickly as possible terrified that the moment I was back at work it would evaporate back out of my head as rapidly as it had appeared.


Currently reading ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’ by Robert Galbraith

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