When I was seven years of age, I knew I wanted to be a writer, and I decided that I would have a string of books published by the time I hit 30.

When I was 30, I duly revised that timescale and realistically decided that I would have at least one (maybe two or three) books published by the time I was 40.

And when I was 40, I grimly told myself that I had better have The Book published by the time I was 50! (50? Me? Never!)

I’m glad to say that my life long ambition has finally been realised. And just in the nick of time. So what happened in between, you ask? Why did it take over forty years to fulfil a dream?

Life happens. As I read recently, plan your future, but do it in pencil!

The early years:

I spent most of my Dublin childhood scribbling in notebooks, copybooks, anything I could get my hands on – when I wasn’t devouring books of course. When I was sixteen, I realised that I should be out living life, love and romance if I wanted to capture it on the page. I went straight from school into the civil service, delighted to be earning some money and to be out enjoying life, love and romance. Before I was twenty-one, I was married with a lovely baby daughter. By the time I was twenty-five, I was a busy stay-at-home mum with three small, gorgeous children – it didn’t allow much time for chasing the muse.

The busy thirties:

In my early thirties I finally got back to the typewriter. Newspaper articles and short stories in Woman’s Way followed. But just as I was putting the bones of The Book together, I had the opportunity to return to a full time career in the civil service. With three lively teenagers and college looming on the horizon, it was no contest.

Life begins at forty?

So I said to myself, but it was difficult to find writing time, between the teenagers and the job and the myriad ups and downs that life can bring. However I did manage to win two Blockbuster fiction competitions, which gave me hope and encouragement. Eventually, in my mid forties and a little later than I originally planned, I was typing the words “The End” at the bottom of Book 1.

Almost there!

Yes, I had some rejections but I put Book 1 away and got on with Book 2. And once again I was typing “The End” and sending off sample chapters. But this time, the magic happened. I received a note from Alison Walsh, commissioning editor with Tivoli, a popular fiction imprint of Gill and Macmillan, expressing an interest in reading the balance of my novel. So with a thumping heart, Book 2 was duly despatched. Months later, she phoned me.
Yes, she likes it and have I anything else…?
Yes, I have, actually…
Dreams happen.

The good life!

By now the lively teenagers are fully-fledged adults and making their presence felt in the world. My husband has benignly accepted his role as book widower, and has taken up golf. I have a lovely agent, Sheila Crowley, who looks after the business side of things for me. And although I’ve signed a two-book deal, I’m still hanging onto the day job in the civil service. But I’ve finally arrived, and by the skin of my teeth. Nifty fifty, and my first novel, Absolutely Love, is hitting the shelves.

Better again, I’ve read recently that 50 is the new 30 – so I’m not too far off the mark, am I? They do great airbrushing nowadays, you know. And it helps that I still feel like sixteen inside.