It would be remiss of me not to tell everyone the story of how things began. Settle down, children. This is a saga in and of itself.
My first writing venture started at age fifteen, however it was years in the making even before that. My Auntie Melissa and mother, Tina-Marie, had always encouraged me to read. It was through them I developed a love of fantasy. Deltora’s Quest, Artemis Fowl, Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, Sabriel, The Belgariad. It came as no surprise to my family that I preferred to read (or play video games) than go outside and play with my siblings (wall brandy was a brutal sport that my brother, Christopher, relished in—I did not). When prompted—again and again—to leave the house and go into the sun, I instead found a shady spot in the garden and continued to read.
It wasn’t long before I was introduced to a particular series by Cecilia Dart-Thornton, an Australian fantasy author. The Ill-Made Mute (Book One) was published in 2001, when I was twelve years old. My Auntie leant it to me after she had finished reading it, urging me to try it out. I did, but found it a struggle (my juvenile brain wasn’t ready for this twisting tale, or so it seemed). Though the premise fascinated me, I promptly handed it over to my mother, who snapped it up, much to my chagrin.
It was pure happenstance that, at fourteen, I stumbled across it again. Only this time, things had changed. It is amazing what a year or two can do to a young mind. I pored over the pages, sucking it dry of every detail as if my life depended on it. The faeries and folklore, inspired by the illustrated books of Brian Froud and Alan Lee (which I had read years before, gifted to me by another family member, Auntie Suzanne), was breathtaking. Luckily, my “gap year” allowed enough time for the entire Bitterbynde Trilogy to have been published. Those went down just as quickly, filling my head like a bucket plunged into a deep well.
It was then I started to get bits and pieces of the current story which I’m eager to share with you all. In the beginning, all I had wanted to do was write a short story (funny, huh?). The prologue, in particular, was firmly in mind by the age of fifteen. It was a few weeks later of putting pen to paper that I realised exactly what I had gotten myself into. Pages and pages written with no end in sight.
So … I decided to become a writer.
… the beginning.