I had a great piece to write week. I was asked to guest blog for the Winchester Writer’s Festival, reliving my journey from aspiring writer to represented author. Slightly longer than my normal 300-word limit, it let me go all out and appreciate how far I had come, how I have changed and who I might yet be.

And those are big, soul-searching issues. Who you are is not just a here-and-now contemplation. It encompasses your past and your future, or rather where you see yourself in the future. I’ve been writing full time (as in, I have no other job other than the other full-time role of being a parent, which pays about the same) for three years. Two years ago this month I finished the first draft of my novel, and yet most people close to me are surprised at how my career seems suddenly to be taking off.

To me, it’s been like a sloth climbing a very, very tall tree.

There are a few people, however, who get it. And, by getting “it,” kind of get me. Which is nice, considering writing is possible one of the most solitary and isolating professions. Writers at festivals, on Twitter, Facebook, all that jazzy social media I have yet to come into to contact with, are exceptionally supportive and friendly. Super friendly, because they too have spent most of their day locked in a room, on their own, trying to cover up the real world by creating a slice of a new one, and are generally happy to talk to and bolster other writers who have been doing the same.

And then I write a paragraph like the one above and I think, wow. This really is a weird profession.

But one I love.

And that, this week, I have looked back on with pride, and looked forward to with so much excitement my fingers itch.

You can read my blog for the Winchester Writer’s Association here.



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