A young niece asked me the other day how I’d like to die. As teenagers do, right? The words were out of my mouth before I’d given it any thought.
“I’d like to faceplant my keyboard,” I answered.
It sums it all up. I’m alive when I write. It’s my art. And when it flows, my days disappear in a frenzy of tap-tap-tapping. Never mind that creativity and my bank account have little in common. It matters but it doesn’t. Writing, quite simply, makes me happy.
Was there life before writing?
Yes and No.
My other life in three words: stress, exhaustion, soulless.
My writing life in three words: electrifying, freeing, terrifying.
Why crime fiction?
My love for books about crime started with Enid Blyton’s Famous Five and Secret Seven – and never stopped. Secrets have always intrigued me and my stories inevitably have shadows from the past that ambush the present.
I self-published Shepherd’s Prayer in 2014. It’s a fast-paced thriller with a twist of magic realism. Set in Collioure, France, there’s a wolf cult, underground caves and the kidnapped son of the village’s mayor.