Many years ago I began waking early each morning and started writing. At first, there was no cohesion. It was scrawl. After a time, maybe a few days or a couple of weeks, I cannot recall, something odd started to happen. Ideas popped into my head, the proverbial light bulb flashed into life. What started as a means of therapy to find some meaning to my life gradually turned into ideas. I liked writing. Furthermore, I believed I could go somewhere with it. My naivety led me to think I could become a ‘proper’ writer.

I began writing short stories, completed a distance-learning course on writing non-fiction and subscribed to Writers’ News and Magazine. It’s then I realised the harsh truth. Most people believe they are the next international best-selling author and most people fall at an early hurdle.

However, just like I still believe one day I’ll be a prolific songwriter much in demand, I also believe that one day I might, just might, get something published.

When I first began writing, I was working in the IT world developing software. It was not very exciting but paid reasonably well. In my early days of software development I could be quite creative. I designed, wrote, tested, documented software and trained others how to use it. Increasingly though, it became a chore. As the software I wrote became more important to the companies I worked for, they, in turn, demanded stricter control of how the software and the documentation was written. The creativity was taken away. Although this was probably the right ¬†course for the companies, I felt starved. That’s why writing in my own time allowed me to explore my ideas.

Then, my life was turned upside down.

Thanks for reading.