7 months ago, I wrote a tweet about dying.
Coronavirus was digging its claws into the UK, and I had been put in the highest risk group. I stayed inside, not even going out of my front door. I wrote (badly), to take my mind off what was happening outside, and...

I waited for the day in the summer that my debut novel would be published, hoping against hope that I would be alive to see it.
So many lovely people read my tweet and pre-ordered my book, making sure that whatever happened to me, The Illustrated Child would continue to live on.

And then, the publication date of my novel, along with many others, was put back.
Throughout lockdown I had focused on my pub date as a sort of talisman, keeping me going, a shining day that I must survive for, but now suddenly I had to make it until 29th October...

I don’t talk about my condition - cystic fibrosis - very often, because it’s just a part of me, like my hair colour or my innate (and often annoying) positivity. But a few months ago @cftrust asked me to write something for their magazine. And I thought I’d show it to you...

This is a very private part of my life, but a very big part of my life. My novel is at last being published in just over 3 weeks, and I cannot wait till that day, when I can celebrate its release, yes, but also celebrate the incredible privilege of just being alive.

That’s it really! Here’s to many more years of life and writing, and here’s a link to my book, in case you’re wondering what it’s all about.
http://hyperurl.co/Illustrated