I’ve always loved writing, ever since I was a boy. Genre never seemed to matter. I’ve tried my hand at most things: poetry, short stories, screenplays and novels.
Whether I’ll ever be good enough to make a living out of it is another matter.
Even if I should fail in that endeavour, it won’t stop me writing. But I am going to take a little breather as I’ve just finished typing the final words of my second novel, Peripheral Vision.
I hope the first draft isn’t quite as bad as Mr. Hemingway predicts. Though, I do appreciate that the hard work will begin when I come to do the second.
Right then, a little jaunt to the off-license, me thinks, for a cheeky bottle of Shiraz to celebrate.