I describe myself as a closet writer.
Some of my earliest memories are writing, whether it was short stories or poor attempts at re-writing pop songs or writing to my journal personified as a girl called Sylia. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing in some capacity, but it was never something I ever really shared with anyone or even dared explore as a career. And now in my twenties I finally decided to make good on the big scary dream I have been avoiding for so long for fear of failure (and the even more compounding fear: what if this actually works out?). I studied International Relations, Politics and History (wrote far too many essays) before studying to become a high school teacher (again, writing far too many essays). I write on the days between substitute teaching and am currently about 5 chapters from finishing my first novel (fingers crossed). I am blessed enough to have a wonderful husband who subsidises my big scary dream of becoming an author (aka self-imposed unemployment … for now). I guess the cat is out of the bag, I’m stepping out of my closet, shaking my life up, admitting that what I’ve wanted to do all along is write and its completely terrifying and difficult but also exhilarating. I’m hoping there will be one person (aside from my husband, and even then its only on the good days) who thinks I have something worth saying.
J J Cameron.