Once upon a time, a smaller me wrote a story on a really old typewriter with no ‘s’s. It went quite well and was very exciting – about a pop (s)tar in love with another pop (s)tar, and a terrible murder involving an old boyfriend and a cliff – but it was only one page long. And the smaller me thought ‘I can write a longer book than that, surely, and make it even more exciting.’

The next one was a Scottish one, as the smaller me was VERY MUCH into Scotland at the time (and still often is), even though Scotland begins with an ‘S’, which made things difficult. The story was also set in Medieval times (another smaller-me fixation), with lots of extravagant swashbuckling escapades, and amounted to at least fifty pages.

It wasn’t enough.

So the smaller me kept going and, gradually, over time, became the me now, with lots more stories happily scribbled over many, many hundreds pages.

Look at me! I can write (s)tories of more than one page!

Check out my website 'The Odd Bit of Writing' for odd bits of writing :)

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