When I was a kid I used to get pretty bad insomnia, so instead of sleeping I would curl up in bed and tell myself stories. They started out as single scenes but sometimes I got so excited about my imaginary world that I would let the story play out in instalments, each night picking up where I left off.
Sometimes I would whisper the dialogue aloud and many of those characters were with me for months.
They’re my earliest memories of telling stories but at the time I didn’t realise those imagining would become real. Those secret stories didn’t have to exist just inside my head when I was meant to be sleeping.
It didn’t happen in an instant but I let those stories into my life and now they’ve become a career.
If you’ve ever thought about writing a book, you should know that there is literally no reason in the world that you can’t do it.