In my early twenties I was afraid to write. Coming back to education – five years after a dysfunctional approach to A-levels – I remember my first essay. I fretted over every single word. I say essay, but that may be overstating it. It was a paragraph, actually – quite a short one, summarising the causes of the Russian revolution. It took me a whole evening of kicking and screaming to get the words in a presentable order.

Almost four years later, after a similar fuss, I brushed a pile of masticated nails from the manuscript and, trembling, handed in my Bachelor’s dissertation. I thought this would be the end of writing for a while, but before long I started to feel empty. I discovered I’d become addicted to it.

Though in my first post-university job I got to pen the occasional tea-related article for their website, it wasn’t enough and I started a personal blog. I had fun with that site, and practised writing daily. The pieces that I was most pleased with (those I have), I’ve transferred here and you can find them early in the ‘Blog‘ section.

In the past year I’ve turned my hand to fiction. It’s tough. Now I read my favourite authors with renewed respect. The way they create their worlds blows me away. You can find my first attempts at stories in ‘Stories’… I’m learning, but I hope you enjoy reading. Comments and advice are appreciated.