The Beginning: I began writing in my mid to late teens, sequestered away in my bedroom in rural south west England. The writing was borne out of a need to express myself and to communicate with the world, something I was not good at doing verbally. It became an outlet for me and my writing grew with me through the years.
The Middle: The writing did stick with me, and the style and nature of my writing naturally evolved as my life changed. Longer stories started coming along, and I even went through a period of planning and organising stories out before actually writing anything. That flew in the face of the disorganised nature where I would just write everything in one go from a single thought such as a title or a name. Still through a lack of self belief, everything was kept close to my chest. That and habitual procrastination.
The End: There will be no end, not until the sun dies its death. For the longest time I had a fear of being forgotten and the way I figured to combat that would be to have a published book sat on a library shelf somewhere. I would have indelibly left my mark somewhere, long after I passed. That was a motivation in the back of my subconscious mind somewhere and still to this day, the enduring nature of my words in print following my end, is comforting.