I don’t think I was ever particularly interested in passing trends as a child. Other people moved quickly from one obsession to another, but for me there were always two constants: music and books.
They still are.
I read constantly growing up, sometimes things that were probably a little too advanced for me at the time — which may explain some of the darker stories I eventually ended up writing as an adult. Like most people, I started with the familiar childhood favourites. Roald Dahl was an early gateway into reading, but before long I found myself wandering further into the worlds of writers like John Wyndham, Ursula Le Guin and Bill Naughton.
What fascinated me about books was the sense of complete immersion. The ability to step away from the real world for a while and disappear into somebody else’s imagination felt almost magical. It still does.
Looking back, I realise reading was never simply entertainment for me. It was curiosity, escape, comfort and creativity all wrapped together. Books made ordinary life feel larger and more interesting. They encouraged me to think differently and eventually pushed me towards writing my own fiction, poetry and stories.
Music had a similar effect.
My music taste has always been fairly eclectic and probably impossible to define properly, but what I loved most was never just the songs themselves. It was the experience around them. The ritual of vinyl records. The weight of an album in your hands. That click as the needle drops followed by the hiss of silence before the music begins.
Even now, that brief moment of anticipation still feels exciting to me.
There is something strangely powerful about it. A pause before something meaningful starts. In many ways it reminds me of the opening line of a story — that feeling that anything could happen next.
I’m grateful that these interests stayed with me because so many childhood obsessions quietly disappear as we grow older. Toys are forgotten, trends fade and many things that once felt important slowly lose their meaning. But books and music stayed constant. They evolved rather than disappeared.
I moved from listening to music to playing it.
From reading books to writing them.
Although, truthfully, I still spend a lot of time doing both.
As I get older, I think the important thing is not necessarily what your passion is, but that you keep hold of something that genuinely makes you feel alive. Modern adult life has a habit of squeezing creativity out of people. Work, responsibility and routine can slowly replace curiosity if we let them.
Somewhere along the way, many people stop making things simply because they enjoy them. They stop reading, stop writing, stop learning instruments, stop drawing, stop exploring ideas — usually because life becomes “serious”.
That feels like a loss to me.
Creativity does not have to lead to fame, success or money to matter. Sometimes its value comes from the fact that it reconnects us with ourselves. Music, books, writing and art help people process life in ways that are difficult to explain logically. They create memory, meaning and identity.
For me, books and music were never phases. They became part of how I understood the world.
I suspect many people have something similar buried somewhere underneath adulthood and routine — something they once loved before life became busy.
The important thing is not to lose it completely.
Whatever that thing is for you, hold onto it.
And for goodness’ sake, don’t let growing up spoil it.
Hey, while I have you, did you know that I released my first novella this year? Why not check it out on Amazon?
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