Why I Write

When I was a child my head was full of stories. Not simply day dreams but actual descriptive language in fully formed sentences. I remember that while I was doing any activity or task I would simultaneously be composing in my head an interesting way to describe what I was doing. I would often write short stories - essays really - based on our English Language homework where the expectation was to produce just two or three sides of a lined exercise book (I wonder whether any of these are still tucked away in my childhood home somewhere…?) When homework for the week was assigned I longed for an essay on a subject of our own choosing so that I could just take one of my stories “off-the-spike” as I thought of it and just copy it out into my English book. My dad worked as a shift supervisor in a chemical plant and on the night shift had the free run of the corporate stationary cupboard so brought home company branded foolscap notebooks with stiff cardboard covers that I filled with my own…