Really inspirational to keep trying and to now let fear get in your way.
The title of today’s blog pretty much sums up the reaction I tend to get from people when the story of how I got into print for the first time comes up in conversation. It’s true, I do have to ruefully shake my head with an expression of ‘what might have been’ at the thought of all those wasted years. You see, back when I started writing historical fiction the field was far less packed than it has become of late. The big name was Bernard Cornwell (and still is, mind you), and authors like Conn Iggulden and Simon Scarrow were still plotting their successful assault on the charts.
Picture the scene, if you will. It’s August 1996 and the Riches family is on its annual holiday. Being the typical family with youngish kids, we’d elected for a value holiday in Cumbria, which put us handily close to Hadrian’s Wall, a…
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