And just like that, my Create Inclusion funded ‘year of being an author’ is over. I’m not going to stop writing, of course, it just means back to balancing my own writing with the freelance editing work that pays the bills and that I love because it’s not mine.

Adventure. History. A hero. Whether it’s a book or a film, there’s nothing better than being caught up in a world that’s not quite your own, but the writing is good enough to draw you in and make you feel part of the story.

Yesterday afternoon I found myself in a part of Edinburgh I used to know very well – I worked there – but haven’t spent time in for years (literally). There was no good reason to linger; I’d been collecting a parcel and vaguely figured it was a nice enough to meander home through the Meadows.  

Another six months of being an author-for-a year, and another few thousand words written. They’ve been written in lockdown, out of it, fitted around home-schooling, and often into the night.

This month, several new books have joined the teetering pile on my ‘books I’ve been lucky enough to have had a vague something to do with’ shelf. Two collections, a short story, and a novel – something for any time, place and mood, in fact!