I love words—reading them, writing them, and as my friends and family will wearily attest, speaking them.
I can string together the odd facetious rhyming couplet well enough, though I lack the patience for anything academic types would call real poetry. What I really like doing is messing around with words until they make a reader feel the way I want them to feel, or understand the thing I want them to understand. Words are clever little things like that. Whether it’s the cadence, or the meaning or the expression, there’s always a way to make words convey what you want. Sometimes you have to wrestle it out of them (the words, not the people – that would be illegal), but that’s half the fun of writing.
I studied Literature and Philosophy at university, which helped enormously in growing to appreciate literature even more, and didn’t help at all when it came to getting a job. Regrettably, being able to argue eloquently is not as valued a talent as it once was. As a result I did a whole load of jobs that were not very interesting for a few years afterwards, until eventually, I got my ducks in line and started writing books.
My first few forays into the world of published story telling have all been inpired by Jane Austen’s writing. I am in awe of her literary cunning and that, along with my own family ancestory, means I’ve had a whale of a time exploring regency England in my historical fiction writing. Find out more about the books I’ve written, and those in the works, by clicking on the aptly titled tab at the top of the page.
It is of no relevance whatsoever, other than a means to conclude this little interlude of self-reflection, to tell you that I live in Hertfordshire with one tame cat, two feral children and a pet husband. I am also quite tall, in case you were wondering.