…in my writing that is. Writing fiction messes with your head. The characters I created in my first novel ‘Change of Life’ became real to me. Walking in the village where a lot of the book is set, I more than half expected to see them. When I finished writing the book I missed my characters in the way you miss real people who mean a lot to you.

For me, the relationship between me and my main characters had to be intense.  The process as the protagonists came to life on the page was akin to falling in love.  I was fascinated – besotted, even, with these people. I had to spend every spare minute with them. I had to know them from the inside out. And then the book was completed and I had to dump them – had to walk away. It wasn’t easy.

When I began the second novel, the two leading characters from book one stalked me. They taunted me as I tried to begin a new relationship. They tried to get me to rekindle our relationship by writing a sequel – and I still might. But for now we’re on a break. I’ve found new happiness – for the moment – with the two leading players in the new book . 

And yes – it’s TWO characters – so I’m not even monogamous – AND one is female and one is male. Of course, they’re also projections of my own ego – so I’m in love with myself.

My psyche’s screwed, I’m a shameless hussy and I’m having a ball!