I was born in 1998 in Wales. Being partly Welsh has influenced more in my life than one would think. I know people who don’t really care about where they were born, but having a love for the Welsh countryside has really made me care. A few times a year I would visit there, and as I grew this became more and more. As a child, the five hour trips seemed tedious (and being furiously car sick didn’t help), so I didn’t go as much then as I do now.

My parents split when I was only six, but it didn’t hit me as bad as you would think. I didn’t really understand it then, which made the blow easier to take as I just grew up with it. I don’t mind it now, twice the Christmas presents and two different houses with two completely different atmospheres! This sounds pretty good to me.

Growing up, I found myself writing small stories and imagining lots of things, my games as a child were entertaining and complicated. I always hated how when we grow we lose that ability to get lost in our imagination outside our minds. I still use my imagination to imagine different things, especially with stories or my book.

Now, when I first started writing my book, it was actually just a story I thought I’d write. I attempted a book only a month before and although I got to twenty-six pages, I deleted it. It didn’t feel right because I didn’t like the story line.

People always ask me “What inspired you to start writing?” Well, I needed a way out. My family had been through some troubles and there seemed to be only a pen waiting for me, the only thing that would listen, so I just began to write. 

My book was interesting to me, but back then it was only a personal project, so I forgot about it for a few months. In those few months tough times erupted, but I suppose it made it better for when I began writing again.

I thought about it often as the New Year began, and I decided to have a look at it, see if I wanted it anymore. But as I read through, I began writing again, and then it became a project.

Once it hit fifty pages my family started taking a light interest, asking me how it was going and what I was writing about. I never thought I’d write as much as I did, but then as I started hitting ninety pages and more, my family and friends were telling me not to give up on it, so I didn’t. I’ll admit I had moments where I really just wanted to throw it all in the bin because I was annoyed, but I didn’t. My Nan was the key to make me keep doing it, she was the first person to read it all and she is still the first person to read anything fresh and new I write.