Why I write.

Growing up, I always felt like I lived on the periphery, a spectator in a world that didn’t quite know what to make of me - and, frankly, I wasn’t too sure about it either. Writing became my refuge, my outlet, and a midnight safe mirror.

Being displaced as a child gave me a unique perspective - an outsider’s lens through which I’ve always viewed the world. When I moved from the New Forest to Derbyshire, the hills became my sanctuary. They were vast, mysterious, and full of stories waiting to be discovered. Alone on those hills, I felt free to imagine anything, to weave narratives that made sense of my own disjointed experience. Fiction became my way of finding balance in the chaos, giving me a voice when I felt voiceless.

I’ve often said, “I write because it’s saved me more than once.” And it has. Life isn’t linear, and its messiness has a way of pushing you to the brink. Writing was there for me during those times when nothing else could reach me. It offered clarity when everything felt murky, solace when the world seemed unbearably cold, and courage when I needed to face what came next. Fiction isn’t just words on a page; it’s a lifeboat in the storm.

For me, fiction is more than storytelling - it’s breathing life into the forgotten, overlooked corners of humanity. Whether it’s the quiet desperation of a lonely cop in Deadtown, America, or the simmering resentment of a witch struggling with loss, the characters I write are fragments of truth pieced together from the things we often don’t say aloud. Fiction allows me to take the raw materials of real emotion and craft them into something meaningful, even when life itself doesn’t make sense.

Unlike the frameworks of my professional life - built on precision, logic, and tangible results - fiction is chaotic, malleable, and unbound by rules. It’s the only place where I can bend time, reshape reality, and explore morality without constraints. In fiction, I can ask impossible questions and give voice to ideas that challenge even my own understanding of right and wrong.

I write because it’s who I am. Because when the world seems too small or too big, fiction provides a space where I can be both grounded and limitless. I write because, even as an odd kid wandering the hills, I always knew that stories would be my way of connecting - with others, with myself, and with the things we can’t always see but know to be true.

If you’ve ever felt the pull of storytelling, you’ll understand this. Writing isn’t about creating perfection - it’s about understanding, growing, and healing. It’s about letting that weirdo who never quite fit in find a home, if only on the page.

That’s why I write. Why I always have. And why I always will.