Writing is all I seem to think, live, breath, and yet when it comes to letting go of my treasured thoughts, I always manage to find an excuse to bury them back down wherever I dragged them out of. I began writing fiction three years ago and, at present, have seven finished manuscripts and many more almost manuscripts taking up space on my hard drive. One of my fears is that that they will remain there indefinitely, the characters, their plights and their worlds lifeless in all but my own daydreams. But the greater fear, the one that stops me from making any serious attempts to be published, stems from a long standing struggle with self belief.

These are my first baby steps towards sharing my words in the hope I can teach myself to worry less about what those reading these words might think, and more about what a shame it would be if they were never shared at all.