When I made the decision to start writing my book, I was met with a number of reactions. Of course, many were supportive and encouraging (thank goodness) but these were few and far between. In fact, I have noticed that in the main, the negative responses fall into one of these three categories:

a) The “Oh that’s nice” – with a distinct lack of interest. In fact, I could have just told them that I had just buttered my toast, or washed my big toe for the level of excitement it warranted. You know that this group do not for one second believe that you have any talent as writer, let alone be capable of getting past page one. These are the b******s that I want to prove wrong…

b) The “Oh – are you writing a nice romance, then?” This is usually uttered by the older generation. Or men. Not that I have anything against romantic novels. Just don’t assume that because I own a pair of heaving bosoms that I want to write about them!

c) The “What’s the point? You’ll never make it.” This group of people are possibly the most frustrating, as they thrust depressing statistics at you and harp on about you having more chance of winning the lottery than being a successful novelist. Of course, they are right – but do you really need to hear it?

My dear old Dad, whilst munching on his cheese on toast, told me that I had more chance of finding Shergar in his outside loo, than of me writing a bestseller. Thanks Daddy!

So why am I bothering? Because I bloody enjoy it, that’s why. And because I’m hoping that maybe – just maybe – I can prove some of these buggers wrong.

I guess I’m always looking for that horse in the toilet….