I’ve made up stories for as long as I can remember and written many of them down since I could write.

My first attempt at a mystery was written in longhand in a scribbler, and thanks to my parents’ tendency to keep everything, I was reunited with it a few years ago. In it, I seem to have copied all the elements of my favourite Enid Blyton adventures and Nancy Drew mysteries, so much so that it could only be resolved by the appearance of the lookalike cousin of one of the protagonists.

I paid a bit more attention to plotting with my first published mystery, Murder is Uncooperative, helped by the support and resources that are available to writers.

Now, with the publication of my first book, I am no longer writing stories that will remain buried in my parents’ basement. Knowing that I’m no longer writing for myself is frightening in some ways. The publication of Murder is Uncooperative, is the first step in a new journey.