Sunset at last.

I have just typed the most difficult two words in an any authors armory. Two words which signify the conclusion of a period of the most intensely painful, soul wearying writing I may ever undertake.


We are word warriors. All of us in one way or another take on the world with our words. We mould entire histories, destroying those that would seek to destroy us.

We craft heros and villains, lovers and losers…the weak and the strong. We cause mountains to tumble, rivers to rise and civilizations to fail.

In our fictional worlds we are the master of those we create. We love or revile those creations, we cause them to laugh, we allow them to cry…we permit them to live, or force them to die. Such is the joy and addiction of fiction writing.

When we write non-fiction, as in a biography… we expose our own underbelly. We write; not of characters meant to intrigue or delight; it is our lives we lay open to scrutiny … our decisions open to question and our futures open to judgement.

I am exhausted, exhilarated and sad. Perhaps I need to take a step back. Yet I cannot, for the same reasons I wrote the book. The outcome is out of my hands. The remaining books are in me awaiting my consent to be written.

For now, I say thank you to all those who have offered me their unconditional support. When the initial reaction to my story hit me … I was ill prepared for it. The generosity of spirit that flowed in my direction was outside my life experience.

I value it, more highly than I could ever hope to express.

I have typed “The End” to Empty chairs book one.

It could as easily say “The Beginning.”