Beginning

Apparently, everyone has a novel inside them.
Somewhere.
Whether that novel is actually any good or is a steaming pile of shite is another matter altogether.

I have discovered that I've got one inside me.

I think it's always been there.  Maybe that's where I should have left it.

For about five years I think it's been rolling around in my head, sometimes spilling out in little snippets scribbled onto notebooks here and there.  More usually pushed to the side by the immediacy of life - you know - working, looking after children.  The mundane stuff of life that gets in the way of life.

Until last Thursday that is.

I have been working up to this and for some reason, last Thursday is when I put pencil to paper and it began flowing out of me.

And this blog will be my record of how it all goes.

For better.

Or for worse.