The Friend Who Accidentally Turned Me Into an Author...

Sometimes, when I look back at how I ended up becoming an author, I honestly can't quite believe it happened.

There was no grand plan.

No lifelong ambition to become a writer.

No childhood manuscript hidden under my bed.

In fact, if you'd told me twenty years ago that I'd one day be sitting here writing books for a living, I'd probably have laughed at you.

And I certainly could never have imagined that one of the main people responsible would be my very best friend, Debbie.

But here we are.

Recently, Rob and I headed back to Nottingham, where I was born, for a very good reason – Debbie's husband Steve’s 70th birthday.

There's something rather strange about returning to the place where you were born when you've lived somewhere else for so long. You know you're going back to familiar territory, but at the same time you're looking at it through completely different eyes.

I suppose that's what getting older does to you.

Places that were simply places when you were younger suddenly become memories.

And, of course, Nottingham has another very important place in my life.

It's where I met Debbie.

We've been friends for years over fifty years and, like all the best friendships, we've been through rather a lot together. There have been good times, difficult times, lots of laughter and, no doubt, quite a few conversations that are probably best kept between the two of us. 😂

But there's one thing Debbie did that she probably had no idea would change my life.

She introduced me to the Kindle.

Now, that might not sound particularly life-changing.

But it was.

At the time, I was certainly not thinking about becoming an author. I wasn't sitting around wondering how I could get my first novel published. I was simply discovering that you could read books on this strange little electronic device and thinking, that’ll never catch on…

And at first, I resisted.

But then, one thing led to another, and I discovered Kindle Direct Publishing.

And suddenly realised that you didn't necessarily need to find a publisher, get an agent, spend years sending manuscripts off and receiving rejection letters before you could actually put a book in front of readers.

You could write the book yourself.

You could publish it yourself.

And people could actually read it.

Well...

That got me thinking.

And once I start thinking about something, it might take me a long time to get there, but get there I usually do – in end... 😉

The result was An Officer and a Gentleman Wanted, which became my first published novel. It's a romantic comedy, very loosely based on my eight years teaching English as a Foreign Language to international military students at Britannia Royal Naval College in Dartmouth. (If you’re interested, you can find out more about it from my previous post.)

Those eight years had given me plenty of stories – although, as I’ve stressed before, the book is fiction and that I'm not suggesting for one minute that everything that happens in it actually happened at the College…

Let's just say there was quite a lot of material to work with. 😂

And that was really the beginning.

What started with one book somehow turned into another.

Then another.

And another...

And before I quite knew what had happened, I was writing full-time and the Shackleford family had taken over my life.

Quite frankly, I'm not sure whether I created the Shacklefords or whether they simply moved in and refused to leave.

Anyone who's read the books will probably have their own opinion on that one. 😂

Which brings me back to Nottingham.

We always have a brilliant time when we visit Nottingham and going back for Steve’s birthday was no exception. And of course, it’s where my roots are.

Because although my life as an author is now firmly rooted in South Devon, with Rob, the dogs, the sea and the slightly alarming number of Shacklefords permanently occupying my brain, a part of that journey began back in Nottingham.

And it began with a friend introducing me to a Kindle.

Who knew?

Certainly not Debbie.

And definitely not me.

Of course, while we were in Nottingham we couldn't resist a visit to Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem pub.

If you haven't been, it's quite a place and well worth a visit.

It's tucked beneath Nottingham Castle and incorporates caves cut into the sandstone rock. It's widely claimed to be England's oldest inn, although, as with many things that have survived for centuries, the truth is slightly more complicated than the legend. The present building dates largely from the 17th and 18th centuries, while the caves are considerably older. ([Historic England][1])

[1]: https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1271192?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem Public House, Non Civil Parish - 1271192 | Historic England"

Personally, I rather like places where the history and the stories have become intertwined.

There's something about sitting somewhere that's been around for hundreds of years and wondering about all the people who've sat in the same place before you.

Who were they?

What were they doing?

What were they talking about?

And, naturally, what trouble were they getting themselves into?

You can probably see where my mind goes. 😂

The photograph above was taken while Debbie and I were enjoying our visit, and looking at it now, I'm struck by just how much has happened since the days when we were younger and had absolutely no idea where life was going to take us. We both certainly look a lot different now. 😂

In all honesty I'm still not entirely sure where it’s going…

But I'm having a lot of fun finding out.

And if it hadn't been for Debbie and that Kindle all those years ago, there is every chance I wouldn't be writing this blog today.

So, Debbie...

Thank you

Much love,

Your Bestie xx