For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved words and language. With a mother who was an English Literature teacher and a father who loved puns and cryptic crosswords, how could I not?

From an early age, I was a voracious reader, and when I went to secondary school I discovered a talent for learning foreign languages. I also started experimenting with writing parodies of well-known theatrical works, the occasional poem, maybe even a short story or two (when I wasn’t dedicating time to my two other great passions: music and design). Of course, in my teenage wisdom I thought everything I wrote was fresh and brilliant, but the fact you’ve never heard of me until now will tell you how wrong I was.

I kept writing on and off into my twenties, but I was too inside my own head, and too unsure about what I was doing, so never got anything into publishable shape.

“Beyond the horizon lies a new world – it’s called The Meeting Ground“.

Fast-forward about ten years. I haven’t done anything that could be considered creative writing for a long time – all I do is translate other people’s words for them, or teach them how to say things in English. I make a living out of words, but they’re not mine.

Then I join a musical group, and suddenly I have the inspiration to write again – I start with song lyrics, then move on to children’s stories and plays. The plays seem to go down well, but are only seen by the other parents at my children’s nursery school, while I can barely get anyone to read my stories (so they sit in a drawer for about five years until I finally decide to try publishing them).

In the back of my mind, there’s always the thought that I’d like to write a novel, something big and important, but never had an idea that could be developed. Then Covid came along, depriving me of distractions like spending time with friends and family or going out in the evenings and forcing me to spend a lot more time than usual inside my own head. And out of my head came a thought … which became an idea … and before I knew it I was writing a novel. After years and decades of frustration, I’d finally found my way to The Meeting Ground.

It’s not the meaty, paradigm-shifting novel I always dreamed of writing, but neither is it superficial; if you follow the main characters’ example and get digging, you’ll find food for thought.