The writing bit

 

In my childhood, everyone said I would be a writer.  I loved writing - in my English language lessons at School.  When they stopped at O-level, so did my writing.  I read and read and read, voraciously, anything except horror, I took my degree in English literature, I panicked if I left the house without a book to read at bus stops and on trains.  But write - not a jot.  Unless, of course, you count the reams of barely legible letters I wrote to friends and relations recounting my life and thoughts.  And on reflection - yes, they should be counted.  Because so many received the comment, "Anna, you have got to write!"

Then in 2015, a friend died.  As I explored my grief, I felt it as a heavy, sun-sodden cat that had taken up residence in my heart.  I wrote it down.  I wrote down a few other fragments as they came to me.  I had an idea for a novel and told people about it more often than I put fingers to keyboard.  Three years later, I found myself at a slimming group next to a lady who turned out to be a colleague from another part of the business where I worked.  Within 5 minutes we had established we also had in common our Christian faith and writing.  She was a seasoned writer, with TES articles and a self-published novella under her belt.  She invited me to join the Association of Christian Writers (ACW) which was for Christians who write, rather than writers who only express Christian stuff.  There I have learned so much and found huge encouragement.  

No, I didn't write a novel in lockdown - I was too busy working full time from home.  I've kept up writing my fragments and poems - a set I did for Advent will be used next Christmas at my Mum's church in Hampshire.  But with this change in my life, I am writing more and hope - no expect - to be blogging "The First Novel is here!" one day.