There is something about a blank page, sometimes people describe it as intimidating. I don’t see it that way, it has a lure, inviting. The opportunity to fill its empty space with something new, a thing that didn’t exist before. The chance to create something that you own completely, just lifted straight out of your brain and splattered all over the page.

I always wanted to write, creating short stories, poems and these days, much longer pieces. The more work I do, the less it feels like an intractable enemy and more akin to an old friend. You give them a nod when you see them, perhaps a smile, then give them todays story.

I am not a young writer by any means, I still feel I am learning. I have written pieces with other writers, created horror, comedy and science fiction. The joy is in knowing that whatever you create, you own. You can take it in any direction you choose. That noir gangster thriller that suddenly becomes a vampire plot, or the space cadet who stops for lunch and ends up consuming the whole place (see my short story Bad day at Sorallio 6).

I think the spark over the last few years has also been driven by the discovery of a thriving Indie writer scene. The publishing industry is a weird place where it seems a very small number of writers are (sometimes inexplicably) successful and a large number of extraordinary talents are largely ignored. I don’t really follow the crowd where literature is concerned and have really enjoyed getting to know a whole range of writers and their books.

I tell this story frequently, but there was a point where I didn’t think I could write even another poem, but I did, probably written over a hundred. I didn’t think that I would be able to sustain a short story. I have probably written about 30-40 of these, some of which are now published. Even at that stage I didn’t know if I had the chops for a novella, but guess what? I wrote Chopsticks, my first novella which is due out this year. I have 4-5 novels in the works, at various stages of completion.

They all started with that blank page, the joy of being to take it anywhere I choose is what keeps me going. If people read them, great, if people part with their cash because they want their own copy, even better. But that is not what drives me to write. I write just for the joy of doing it, creating those characters, getting them into scrapes, connecting them with the reader. These are the things that drive me to write.

I have a full time job, I have other responsibilities, time is always a factor. But I have found you can write anywhere, waiting for a train, walking the dog, college pick ups, it doesn’t matter. Phones are great for this. You can get your google docs straight on there open the app and get typing.

For nearly every type of creative work, most people who love it will say the same thing. I would do it even if it didn’t make me a living (and I’ll be honest, I am not even close to making a living from writing). I do it for the love and joy of the act of creation. That’s the spark that keeps me going.

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