I knew that I couldn’t write. I’d sent manuscripts to publishers twice in my teens, and they’d both been rejected, which proved that I had no talent. I still scribbled down my poems and stories, but I accepted that they’d never give pleasure to anyone but me, and that I was being self-indulgent and probably pretentious in writing them.
Eight years since last feeling like that, I’ve had over 200 poems and stories published, won 14 writing competitions and awards, and had two poetry collections published by small presses. My first novel, Pride and Regicide, is out in a few months from the prestigious publisher Crooked Cat. I still get rejections all the time, smile ruefully and carry on.Read More