Once upon a time there was a girl who loved writing stories.
She always said that one day she would write a book, like her hero Enid Blyton.
The girl grew older, passing through school and university, and eventually finding a job.
When the girl became a woman and was into the second half of her twenties, she bought a copy of a big red book to inspire her and told her colleagues she was going to write a novel.
When she was in her early thirties she gave the book to charity and turned her hand to parenting.
It was only when she was thirty-eight that the woman realised it was time to take action. All the years of saying she would write a book one day. What would happen if that day never came? She didn't want have regrets. So, not for the first time, she opened a file and typed the word 'Novel'. But this time she saw it through.
The girl was always a bit nervous and lacking in confidence but the woman was even more so. Someone who seemed to know a lot about writing, suggested she set up a blog. She Googled 'blog', and wondered why anyone would want to read anything that she would have to say. And what would she say, more to the point? But she could tell the friendly stranger knew what she was talking about. So she set one up.
Only it wasn't, was it?
I can't believe it has only been a year since I set this blog up, but when I did I had a real struggle with the idea of referring to myself as a writer. My first couple of posts on here show my nerves but I read them now and feel like a totally different person wrote them.
A lot can happen in a year but by far the best far of it for me has been getting to know so many wonderful people through blogging, Twitter and Facebook so thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and especially thank you for visiting my blog on it's first birthday.
Thank you also to my friend and Editor Sarah Franklin, who suggested that I set this blog up in the first place. We really *will* have to have that coffee one day!
x x x