Why I write

It took me a long time to understand how lucky I was to grow up with a dad who encouraged me to do something I love. The first time was – like lots of us – when I’d left home. I sat with fellow students and friends as I realised it wasn’t the same for us all.

No pushing. No telling. No following in footsteps. Just something you love. Choose it, do it and learn how to do it well – it will be the guidepost of your life, he told me and he followed his own rules. He loved his job as a sales director, and he did it really, really well. His job introduced him to his wife and lifelong friends – and it created a world for him he loved.

But I was still too young to understand this advice was actually not just about a job - it would give me a structure for my whole life too.

As a child, I’m not sure I ever felt I really fitted in. I have two older brothers who were cool. They played football and were in the cool gang. I was never cool. I didn’t have a sport and at school I often felt on the outside. But at home, it was different. At home I belonged.

There, I had my two best friends in the world - Cindy and Lucy. We would make up stories, I’d ask them questions and then I’d write everything down. When I was fed up, they cheered me up. When I was happy, they cheered me along. My mum would bring us lemonade and ask how they were? She let them stay for tea every night.

Cindy was our black Labrador and Lucy wasn’t real. Or rather she was, just in my head. She was my imaginary friend. It’s only much later I realised how damaging it would have been had my mum or dad questioned this friendship. But they never did. My mum gave them biscuits and I read her our stories. We went all around the world on our little adventure, all from the comfort of our garden and home.

I love stories. To me they make the world go round, whether they’re fiction or fact.

They’re what weave us all together, connecting us all. Questions give stories, which are the answers which help us find our way. I carried on writing stories as I entered the world of journalism and learned the ropes of a newsroom and live TV.  I love the clarity of journalism. The facts are the signposts, showing us the reality of life. Good things happen to bad people, bad things happen to good people and sometimes wonderful things happen to the best people of all. There’s not a single day I work as a journalist that something doesn’t sweep me off my feet. A moment you could never make up which is where the magic lies.

But I also love my world of fiction. Where I can take those moments from the real world and put them in my own. Where I can try to make sense of the senseless, the joy, the wonder and the pain. But in my worlds the baddie never wins and the goodie pretty much always gets the girl or boy. I can sit in the setting of one of my favourite sunny spots in the world, as the rain drizzles outside on a wet, winter’s day.

It’s not lost on me how, when my dad died and I had no idea how I’d carry on, my work gave me my footpath back to life. My job as a journalist held out an arm and guided me back to the outside world, while I could wrap myself up in my fiction like a warm blanket, on the days I wanted to hide.

It’s also not lost on me that today, in brighter days, I’m back where I belong. I still spend most days with my imaginary friends and dog (now a golden lab, Cookie), but now, it’s my husband who brings us biscuits and asks how we’re getting on?

Doing something we love - in my opinion - shouldn’t just be an option, but something we all have to do. Yes, there are bills, yes, there are hurdles, but I believe if you really want to, you should be able to find a way.

This is the belief I was gifted from my dad, and while I miss him every day, I can at least pass on this gift to you. It’s the reason I started my podcast The Next Chapter, sharing stories to help you on your way. I believe in you, like he believed in me. Writing has given me a rhythm to my life and my stories a place where I belong. I really hope you find your world too, and remember if you’re in any doubt, you’ve always got me, my dad’s belief and my gang of very cool, imaginary friends.