The Stepping Stones To Becoming A writer

Rise

Rise

When I finished reading all the YA I could get my hands on, I wondered if I could write anything that could create those feelings in another.

 

It’s funny when I think back to the stepping stones that led me to becoming a writer. It should have been obvious from the start that I was always going to become one, yet for years I searched for it. I always had a deep seated need to be my own boss. I knew that whatever I was going to do, needed to be unique, creative and inventive. I also knew that I needed to produce something that was truly mine, something I could call my own. The question was what?

 

I wasted a lot of time looking for the outlet that was going to lead me to my future accomplishment. Singing on the X-Factor was popular, but completely out of the question, as I am tone deaf. I’m not exactly sporty; in fact after running a mile, I’m more incline to collapse than run a victory lap, so I needed to look for something else. I needed to look for some special quality or skill, but I also needed to make a living, so I had to dig deep and start thinking outside of the box.

 

I have to admit that for years I was lost, because I’m nobody special. I’m just as ordinary as the next person. I knew that I had always been a creative. I’d always enjoyed all forms of art and was of a reasonable standard when I was younger, but I had turned my back on it when I left school, writing it off as a hobby, rather than something I could make an income from and never considered writing to be an art form.

 

My best friend at school, Anne, once told me out of the blue, that she always admired my writing. I remember choosing my A-Level subjects and being stuck for my forth choice. I walked around all the stalls as students do and in the end picked English Literature. I had no particular compulsion attracting me to it, I hadn’t bought into the subject at GCSE, but simply needed a fourth, it meant that I could read books and I remembered what Anne had said. In the end it was my best subject. I found an affinity with it that was unparalleled. I answered every question first and took the lead on every discussion in class. I was a natural, I understood the characters, the writer’s inner workings, the subtle symbolism and the motives behind their characterisations. I didn’t have to think about it, it was as clear to me, as if I had written it myself. I had the ability to read between the lines. I had found my subject. It was the first time I had really felt accomplishment, but life caught up with me as life does and took me in a new direction leaving English behind.

 

As time went by, nothing presented itself as a particular talent. I had long since put my success with English behind me, so I was amiss, until I linked a number of random events that had occurred throughout my life. These led me to picking up a computer and making a start. Who knows what makes us suddenly sit up one day and make the connection we’ve been trying to make for a life time. Maybe there is no answer, but for me, it all started when my colleague, Elaine, came into the office one day and raised the question, ‘If you could be anything you wanted to be, what would you be?’ I remember sitting at my desk, up to my neck in work, having one of my usual stressful days and without a moment’s hesitation replying, “A writer.” It wasn’t something I considered before replying. It just rolled off my tongue. I hadn’t even put pen to paper at that point, but there it was, it was out there. I was busy and the conversation ran its course, so I forgot all about it and went back to work, but these words must have come from somewhere, and they certainly lodged themselves somewhere more available.

 

So not much changed in my life. I went about my usual daily routine, working full time at a school and raising a family, with many more little events happening along the way. I changed my job at the school and writing became more of a feature in my role. I wrote a report for a colleague – Tucker, who read it, immediately passing comment on how well it had been written. Again, I didn’t think anything particular about it, I’d just completed a task that he’d asked me to do. I had previously worked with many English teachers, but I particularly remembered Mrs Basic’s classes. Her work really struck a chord with me, but again I still hadn’t made any connections.

 

We had an old computer that a friend gave me. It had a big bulky tower and was set up in an awkward place, but one day I had an urge to have a go at writing something. Another random thought that popped into my head. I wondered if I could do it and the compulsion to do it felt really strong. The kids were occupied and I had some time, so I sat and wrote a couple of pages. I started striking the key, instantly finding a story line. It was the weirdest thing, but it felt natural and comfortable. It all got interrupted and I never went back to it. Soon after, the computer died and that was that.

 

The next, more significant event that took place was when I noticed my daughter was reading a book that everyone on the bus was reading, and all the kids at school. With my motherly curiosity taking president, I wanted to know what my then teenage daughter was reading, so I asked her. She told me about it and offered to lend it to me. At the time I had a busy career and no spare time to indulge in reading, so when she offered to let me read it, I immediately regretted it, because it was the size of a catalogue. I didn’t want to let her down, as she had so adeptly plugged the book and I wanted to ensure that what she was reading was appropriate, as she had already started the second, so I took it. At first I decided to just read enough to get a feel for the story, see if it was suitable and slip it back into her room, telling her I’d read it, but I reach a point which hooked me to the point I almost missed my bus stop. I remember hurtling down the bus, shouting at the driver. Something inside me unlocked, something I couldn’t explain. The book was Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. I have a lot to be grateful to Stephenie for, she was the humble beginning of all the dots lining up.

 

I read the whole Twilight series in 3 weeks, which was a record for me, discovering that reading YA books was quite appealing. It reminded me of all those raw emotions felt as a teenager that are lost over time, as our careers and daily grind beat them out of us. When I finished the series, I went to my daughter to see what else she was reading, looking to evoke the feelings that had been stirred up inside me. She was heavily into L.J. Smith at the time, so I started reading her novels. I went looking for more of her work and came across the Vampire Diaries. I tore through the series. When I reached the end of book 7, I put it down and wondered what I should read next, because I had read everything she had wrote in the series up to that point and was hungry for the next one, but knew that I had to wait. The thought occurred to me that maybe I could have a go at writing myself. I wondered if I could write anything that could create those feelings in another. Again, being a practical person, I brushed the momentary thought aside and went about my usual business. Later that month, I had an unusual dream.

 

At this point you may be reading this, shaking your head and thinking what’s unusual about that. There are two things that were unusual for me. Firstly, I know that I dream, everybody does, but I very rarely remember them or know that I have. Secondly, on the rare occasion that I do realise I’ve had a dream, I remember it for all of 30 seconds, often forgetting the finer points, like everyone else. However, this dream was different.

 

On a handful of occasions in my life, I’ve had dreams that have been so profound, they have not only stayed with me, but it have marked a significant point in my life. These dreams I can still see when I close my eyes today. I can recount them at will and they never go away. This was one of them and it came with an over whelming need to write. I woke up with what I can only describe as a charge inside me. It was like electricity and it surged through me, looking to expel itself. What everyone else could see, suddenly occurred to me. Had I found my talent? And could I make it work?

 

I still relive the emotions of having to wait for the right time to try writing again. The burst of excitement within me was all the more concentrated for waiting. I finally found my opportunity one August afternoon in 2010. Everything fell into place that day, my son was out playing football and my daughter was hitting the books for her GCSE’s, so I borrowed my daughter’s laptop and headed down to the bottom of the garden. I can still feel the butterflies today. It was like holding a winning lottery ticket on a windy day. One false move and the whole thing could be a disaster, but I opened a word document and began typing. I wrote the opening chapter to Hidden and never looked back. Today, I am in the process of publishing that very same book. I have two more books at various stages of completion and already know that there will be at least another two books in the saga.

 

It’s funny where humble beginnings can take us. Who could have imagined, when I was my children’s age that today I would be a writer and author? To this day, I have not stopped writing, whether it has been something for one of my books, or something toward marketing the saga. It just took one or two stepping stones and a bit of realisation that my talent was there all along. I just never put my finger on it.

 

Serina Hartwell – Author of The HiddenSaga

http://www.amazon.com/Serina-Hartwell/e/B00JOOKH06/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

 

 

Thank you for taking the time out to read my blog. Don’t forget to follow me and tell a friend. Why not leave me your thoughts or a good review? I have a new website available at – http://www.serinahartwell.com

 

 

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Jasmine’s Journey

 

Jasmine

Jasmine

What a journey and it all started with Mr Smith, who invested his time and effort into encouraging my daughter, Jasmine Varley, into pursuing her ICT education and particularly animation. He taught her animation and I can’t express enough, just how grateful I am to him. Here are some pictures that show her journey from her GCSE results to moving into university, to the young woman she has become today.

With all her life in front of her, she handed in her last assignment at university and with the only thing left to do being her Vivo presentation, another chapter in her life is drawing to a close.

I just wanted to share her journey with you today and say thank you to all the people in her life, who have made this possible for her to reach the end of her animation degree. I don’t know where all the time went, but we enjoyed getting to this point. As the horizon opens up before her, we look forward to her graduation and the future that lies ahead of her.

Serina Hartwell – Author
Hidden – Book 1 of The Hidden Saga

http://www.serinahartwell.com/

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The Highs and the Lows of Being a New Writer

Where the magic happens

Where the magic happens

Nobody told me when I started this whole pursuit, just how hard the journey was going to be.

The worse thing about being new to any job is that you don’t know where anything lives. You spend most of your first week, looking through cupboards and bothering your colleagues with questions like, “where do I find…?” and “where does this go?” Your colleagues tend to have the good grace to help you out, because they know that you are new and it’s only a temporary phase, while you establish yourself into the firm. However, becoming a new writer is totally different. You are self-employed, so there isn’t anyone to ask. You have a thousand questions, but no one is going to line up with the answers, so you have to find the answers to them yourself.

Writing can be very lonely at times. You spend a great deal of your time on your own, in your office space, just writing or blogging. Your work can take so much of your time and energy that after a productive writing session, it isn’t unheard of, to look at the clock and realise that there isn’t anyone to socialise with anyway, because it’s too late and almost time for dinner, or your friend’s/family’s lunch break is over, or even it’s time for bed. The combination of all of these factors can lead to a tremendous amount of lows, which you have to manage yourself. There isn’t anyone going to blow a dinner bell whistle, nor call clocking out time, if you miss a break and work through, there is no one there to acknowledge it and serve you with praise. It’s simply you and your writing, however, as negative as all that sounds, and it has to be said, because it is a reality of the business. When you finally reach a writing goal however, you could walk on the clouds and dance in the heavens. The highs are always so much higher than the lows could ever be. So, like an addiction, we keep writing, looking for our next pinnacle to lift us up into the clouds.

I have spoken with many people about the fact that I am an author. It’s funny how varied the reactions can be. I have spoken to people who have ignored the whole subject and changed the topic immediately. Some people have been in awe of what I do, which is lovely and a nice lift for my ego, but I can’t help thinking that I am just as ordinary as the next person. Other people come at me from a different angle. They have often bought into the chocolate box imagery associated with the comedy sketches of years gone by, where comedians would portray well known writers eating chocolates while having an overworked typist in the corner, typing away at some break neck speed, to keep up with the author’s dictation, while the author lays on a couch eating chocolates. Apparently, that’s what I do. On these occasions, I have to admit to thinking to myself, “I wish. If only…”  These people are not aware of the all-nighters that I pull to get a chapter or a storyline finished, or the fact that I could have spent a couple of weeks just building a website, to get my brand out into the wider community. Speaking of which… Nobody told me when I started this whole pursuit, just how hard the journey was going to be.

When I originally started this whole writing malarkey, I had no idea that my writing journey was going to take me to the places that it has, or be so complicated. Originally, when I was ignorant to the journey, I thought I would just write a book, place it in an envelope and pop it in the post and the rest would be history. A contract would land on my carpet from a publisher and in would roll loads of money, making the whole thing worthwhile. I would be compensated for all the hours of hard work done after I finished my day, at my full time job, which was out of town, for working late into the night and giving up all my evenings, weekends and holidays, to get my manuscript finished. Yes, that’s more of that stereotyping, working its way into my ignorance. It is right that I do work all my evenings, weekends and holidays. I miss nights out, relaxation, just picking a book up for a relaxing read is a thing of the past, and if I do have to attend events, then I have to fit them in.

My daughter has a new question she asks of her dad, but within ear shot of me, to make a point and that is, “has mum made a nest again?” This is because ever since she has been at university, I have been writing seriously, with the intention of making it my full time career, and all she has seen is me writing in the back of the car, while en-route to picking her up, or dropping her off. I have to admit that when I stand back and take an outsider’s view of what I do, it does sort of look like a nest. I’ll often be sat in the back of our beaten up, old, failing car, with my laptop, and my little exercise book, pen and torch for when the battery dies on my laptop and I can’t write on it any longer. I also have a good book to read, to go with my torch for when I end up over tired and inspiration leaves me, or I just need to chill a little, so yes, I can see where she is coming from. It’s like anything else though, if you want to be a success, you have to work really hard at it. This is how my parents brought me up and so far, it has proved to be the right advice.

The journey has been much harder though, than I ever anticipated. I did everything in the book to the best of my ability. I followed every piece of advice that made sense to me. I bought a copy of the Writers’ & Artists’ Year Book and worked my way through that, sending my manuscript off to all the publishers in the UK, who published my genre. I spent a fortune on postage, envelopes and printing, only to have ALL of them returned to me. I had followed the rules and looked for whether each company was accepting submissions, I’d looked at their submission guidelines and written a synopsis and covering letter attune to what they were each individually asking for. I tried to get an agent, but couldn’t, I emailed my manuscript, where that was their criteria and spent the majority of 2012 and 2013 been rejected by every company. The returns were very polite, wishing me luck in my venture, but politely telling me that because I didn’t have an agent, they wouldn’t even read my manuscript. This business is tough.

You have to have a very thick skin to be part of this business, or decide to self-publish and take your chances. The problem with that is that every man and his dog are all doing the same thing. It would seem that since the recession made unemployment nearer the norm than employment, everyone has turned to writing that novel they’ve been putting off, and looking for a new way forward. This means that getting a novel out there is going to be almost impossible, if you don’t know how to promote it. So I go back to my original statement – Nobody told me when I started this whole pursuit, just how hard the journey was going to be.

Nobody said to me, when I sat at the bottom of my garden, with my rose-tinted glasses on, do you know that when you’ve finished writing your book, you are going to have to go off shore, over to America, to get published, because your own community won’t even read it. They didn’t tell me about the loneliness of writing, they didn’t share the fact that I would have to learn to write to a standard that was high enough to be accepted by my publisher. No body relayed the fact that I would have to build a website and join numerous writing communities, just to stay afloat, but do you know what? It’s all worth it! Every last up and down. Every high, every low, because I wrote something that I could share with the world. Something that has the potential to outlast me, if I can get it off the ground, and there are not many people who can say that.

Writing has been the most incredible journey of my life after motherhood. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been my saviour. It has shown me that I can do far more than I ever thought I was able to. I have gained so many skills over the last three and a half years that I sometimes I have to sit myself down and remind myself that it is me doing it. You see the advantage of being self-employed and not having anyone to ask about anything, is that it serves as a catalyst for finding things out yourself and that always leads to you learning far more than if someone just spoon-feeds you the answers.

Would I recommend becoming a writer? Yes and no. The answer lies deep inside the individual asking the question. It’s not as easy as it looks. I would say that it is far more difficult than the full time job, I currently make my living at, and I don’t have an easy job. Only the person asking the question can decide whether they are tough enough to take on the industry and tough it out, just to get a foot on the ladder, with no guarantees or promises. To face rejection from the industry and critique from non-writer, who can destroy your writing career as look at you. If you’re not up to this, then my answer would be – no. Don’t pick up your pen. However, if you are still not fazed by this and the writing is erupting out of you, regardless then it’s time to take up the challenge and enjoy the ride of your life.

 

Serina Hartwell – Author of The Hidden Saga

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/author-serina-hartwell.html

Thank you for taking the time out to read my blog. Don’t forget to follow me and tell a friend. Why not leave me your thoughts or a good review? I have a new website available at – http://www.serinahartwell.com

Why Bronte?

A Blast From The Past In Haworth

A Blast From The Past In Haworth

Choosing the name for my main character wasn’t easy. I was going to have to live with it for a very long time, so getting it right was very important to me.

 

Choosing the name for my main character wasn’t easy – I felt a lot of pressure to get it right. After all, I was going to have to live with it for a very long time, so getting it right was very important to me. I remember going through all the names I liked and finding that none of them were suitable. I eventually turned to a number of on-line baby name sites, but eventually gave this up as a bad job. I was stuck, except for one name that had stayed with me from the start, but it was a name that I was afraid to use – Bronte.

It sounded right, it felt and fit right and it wasn’t a common name, therefore it ticked all the right boxes for me, but it had relevance to where I came from and that made me unsure at first. I have to admit that perhaps using the name Bronte was rather indulgent, but I do actually like the name regardless of its connection. I was always attracted to the name, because it was unusual without being ridiculous, like apple, or clover, for instance. There was just one thing and that was the Bronte sisters.

I was born and still live on the doorstep of the Bronte sisters, who are possibly some of the most influential writers of our time, and I can’t deny that they have had a great impact on me. I live among the rugged landscapes that influenced their work and were featured in Wuthering Heights. It felt almost wrong to use Bronte as my character’s name, but I couldn’t find an alternative that sat right. There was also a mischievous element that wondered if anyone would make the connection, anyway.

Names for your characters are difficult to choose at the best of times, but especially if you’re not drawn to anything in particular. Once you’ve picked a name, you have to live with it for the life of the story and beyond, and you will always be associated with it from the day you publish.

It’s tempting to pick something that is modern and popular, but the trouble with that is they go out of date, or become over used, leading them to have the opposite effect and become unpopular. This could ultimately end in disaster, if your audience read a few pages and reject your book based on the names that you had chosen. So, I went with Bronte and took a leap of faith.

Riley, Bronte’s best friend, was easier. I received a piece of post that belonged to my neighbour. Although I used a different spelling, his name was inspired from their surname. It felt at the time, like I was meant to receive that item of mail by mistake, as another name dropped into place. Perhaps fate had decided to show me a little kindness for a change and give me a helping hand, in making the choice easier. The name was strong I had heard of it, and it was popular enough to be known without being over used and most importantly, it reflected the strength of my character’s personality.

I really struggled to get a name down for another of my main characters. I was completely lacking in inspiration at the time I introduced him into the story line. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, nothing felt right, so I left it and called him Brian. I knew that Brian would irritate me enough to change it at some point. I also knew that the more I focused on it, the worse the search would become, so Brian it was, all the way through my first three books, until one day, I came across the name Jenson. It was like something slotting into place, it fit completely and gave me great joy in changing my manuscripts. I have to say that I don’t have anything against the name Brian. I have many friends called that, but it just isn’t a name I would associate with the image I was trying to portray for my character.

I don’t regret my decision. I have a rule that I follow throughout, and that is that if it doesn’t feel right when I’m writing it, then it’s not going to feel right further down the line either and this is more than likely going to convey to my readers. So a little bravery up front, is going to go a long way later on, in the life of the story. I want to draw my readership in, not have them closing my book through not being able to gel with a name.

I suppose the last name I should talk about is Bayer. Bayer is Bronte’s other world counterpart. She comes from a different world altogether, and gives my readers their first taste of the fantasy element to my story. As Bayer doesn’t belong to this planet, I had to create something totally new. I couldn’t call her Brian either. So this was my first taste at inventing a fantasy name and something that had never, to my knowledge, been invented before. I have to admit that it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.

Bayer was a name I played around with for a while. I liked Jayer, which was already a name and I wanted to keep the momentum of this name going, so I started playing around with it, changing the letters, until I eventually ended up with Bayer, which sounded just right. I researched each version I created until I found that Bayer wasn’t being used as a name or a word at the time I created it and so Bayer was born.

 

Serina Hartwell – Author of The Hidden Saga

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/author-serina-hartwell.html

Thank you for taking the time out to read my blog. Don’t forget to follow me and tell a friend. Why not leave me your thoughts or a good review? I have a new website available at – http://www.serinahartwell.com

The Stepping Stones To Becoming A writer

Where the magic happens

Where the magic happens

 

When I finished reading all the YA I could get my hands on, I wondered if I could write anything that could create those feelings in another.

 

It’s funny when I think back to the stepping stones that led me to becoming a writer. It should have been obvious from the start that I was always going to become one, yet for years I searched for it. I always had a deep seated need to be my own boss. I knew that whatever I was going to do, needed to be unique, creative and inventive. I also knew that I needed to produce something that was truly mine, something I could call my own. The question was what?

 

I wasted a lot of time looking for the outlet that was going to lead me to my future accomplishment. Singing on the X-Factor was popular, but completely out of the question, as I am tone deaf. I’m not exactly sporty; in fact after running a mile, I’m more incline to collapse than run a victory lap, so I needed to look for something else. I needed to look for some special quality or skill, but I also needed to make a living, so I had to dig deep and start thinking outside of the box.

 

I have to admit that for years I was lost, because I’m nobody special. I’m just as ordinary as the next person. I knew that I had always been a creative. I’d always enjoyed all forms of art and was of a reasonable standard when I was younger, but I had turned my back on it when I left school, writing it off as a hobby, rather than something I could make an income from and never considered writing to be an art form.

 

My best friend at school, Anne, once told me out of the blue, that she always admired my writing. I remember choosing my A-Level subjects and being stuck for my forth choice. I walked around all the stalls as students do and in the end picked English Literature. I had no particular compulsion attracting me to it, I hadn’t bought into the subject at GCSE, but simply needed a fourth, it meant that I could read books and I remembered what Anne had said. In the end it was my best subject. I found an affinity with it that was unparalleled. I answered every question first and took the lead on every discussion in class. I was a natural, I understood the characters, the writer’s inner workings, the subtle symbolism and the motives behind their characterisations. I didn’t have to think about it, it was as clear to me, as if I had written it myself. I had the ability to read between the lines. I had found my subject. It was the first time I had really felt accomplishment, but life caught up with me as life does and took me in a new direction leaving English behind.

 

As time went by, nothing presented itself as a particular talent. I had long since put my success with English behind me, so I was amiss, until I linked a number of random events that had occurred throughout my life. These led me to picking up a computer and making a start. Who knows what makes us suddenly sit up one day and make the connection we’ve been trying to make for a life time. Maybe there is no answer, but for me, it all started when my colleague, Elaine, came into the office one day and raised the question, ‘If you could be anything you wanted to be, what would you be?’ I remember sitting at my desk, up to my neck in work, having one of my usual stressful days and without a moment’s hesitation replying, “A writer.” It wasn’t something I considered before replying. It just rolled off my tongue. I hadn’t even put pen to paper at that point, but there it was, it was out there. I was busy and the conversation ran its course, so I forgot all about it and went back to work, but these words must have come from somewhere, and they certainly lodged themselves somewhere more available.

 

So not much changed in my life. I went about my usual daily routine, working full time at a school and raising a family, with many more little events happening along the way. I changed my job at the school and writing became more of a feature in my role. I wrote a report for a colleague – Tucker, who read it, immediately passing comment on how well it had been written. Again, I didn’t think anything particular about it, I’d just completed a task that he’d asked me to do. I had previously worked with many English teachers, but I particularly remembered Mrs Basic’s classes. Her work really struck a chord with me, but again I still hadn’t made any connections.

 

We had an old computer that a friend gave me. It had a big bulky tower and was set up in an awkward place, but one day I had an urge to have a go at writing something. Another random thought that popped into my head. I wondered if I could do it and the compulsion to do it felt really strong. The kids were occupied and I had some time, so I sat and wrote a couple of pages. I started striking the key, instantly finding a storyline. It was the weirdest thing, but it felt natural and comfortable. It all got interrupted and I never went back to it. Soon after, the computer died and that was that.

 

The next, more significant event that took place was when I noticed my daughter was reading a book that everyone on the bus was reading, and all the kids at school. With my motherly curiosity taking president, I wanted to know what my then teenage daughter was reading, so I asked her. She told me about it and offered to lend it to me. At the time I had a busy career and no spare time to indulge in reading, so when she offered to let me read it, I immediately regretted it, because it was the size of a catalogue. I didn’t want to let her down, as she had so adeptly plugged the book and I wanted to ensure that what she was reading was appropriate, as she had already started the second, so I took it. At first I decided to just read enough to get a feel for the story, see if it was suitable and slip it back into her room, telling her I’d read it, but I reach a point which hooked me to the point I almost missed my bus stop. I remember hurtling down the bus, shouting at the driver. Something inside me unlocked, something I couldn’t explain. The book was Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. I have a lot to be grateful to Stephenie for, she was the humble beginning of all the dots lining up.

 

I read the whole Twilight series in 3 weeks, which was a record for me, discovering that reading YA books was quite appealing. It reminded me of all those raw emotions felt as a teenager that are lost over time, as our careers and daily grind beat them out of us. When I finished the series, I went to my daughter to see what else she was reading, looking to evoke the feelings that had been stirred up inside me. She was heavily into L.J. Smith at the time, so I started reading her novels. I went looking for more of her work and came across the Vampire Diaries. I tore through the series. When I reached the end of book 7, I put it down and wondered what I should read next, because I had read everything she had wrote in the series up to that point and was hungry for the next one, but knew that I had to wait. The thought occurred to me that maybe I could have a go at writing myself. I wondered if I could write anything that could create those feelings in another. Again, being a practical person, I brushed the momentary thought aside and went about my usual business. Later that month, I had an unusual dream.

 

At this point you may be reading this, shaking your head and thinking what’s unusual about that. There are two things that were unusual for me. Firstly, I know that I dream, everybody does, but I very rarely remember them or know that I have. Secondly, on the rare occasion that I do realise I’ve had a dream, I remember it for all of 30 seconds, often forgetting the finer points, like everyone else. However, this dream was different.

 

On a handful of occasions in my life, I’ve had dreams that have been so profound, they have not only stayed with me, but it have marked a significant point in my life. These dreams I can still see when I close my eyes today. I can recount them at will and they never go away. This was one of them and it came with an over whelming need to write. I woke up with what I can only describe as a charge inside me. It was like electricity and it surged through me, looking to expel itself. What everyone else could see, suddenly occurred to me. Had I found my talent? And could I make it work?

 

I still relive the emotions of having to wait for the right time to try writing again. The burst of excitement within me was all the more concentrated for waiting. I finally found my opportunity one August afternoon in 2010. Everything fell into place that day, my son was out playing football and my daughter was hitting the books for her GCSE’s, so I borrowed my daughter’s laptop and headed down to the bottom of the garden. I can still feel the butterflies today. It was like holding a winning lottery ticket on a windy day. One false move and the whole thing could be a disaster, but I opened a word document and began typing. I wrote the opening chapter to Hidden and never looked back. Today, I am in the process of publishing that very same book. I have two more books at various stages of completion and already know that there will be at least another two books in the saga.

 

It’s funny where humble beginnings can take us. Who could have imagined, when I was my children’s age that today I would be a writer and author? To this day, I have not stopped writing, whether it has been something for one of my books, or something toward marketing the saga. It just took one or two stepping stones and a bit of realisation that my talent was there all along. I just never put my finger on it.

 

Serina Hartwell – Author of The Hidden Sagahttp://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/author-serina-hartwell.html

 

Thank you for taking the time out to read my blog. Don’t forget to follow me and tell a friend. Why not leave me your thoughts or a good review? I have a new website available at – http://www.serinahartwell.com

 

 

Pivotal

Pivotal

Pivotal

See the person not their colour

See the person not their status

See the person not their religion

See the person not their creed

Treat them as equals not as sectors

Treat them as one whole individual

Treat them as equals from the beginning

Treat them with respect and love

Work together not against each other

Build a future for tomorrow

Learn new things from those around you

And build a story as one

By Serina Hartwell

Author of The Hidden Saga

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/author-serina-hartwell.html

If you like my work, tell a friend. Thank you for your support.

Supressed

Supressed

Supressed

I see the thirst behind your eyes,

The ambition that dwells within,

Waiting to escape its confines,

It sits there trapped within.

Always looking for an outlet,

An opportunity managed your way,

For a new chapter to begin,

Keep trying, it will happen someday.

Like the rising of an established flame,

You try to supress your needs,

You do it for those around you,

But need serves to hinder your way.

Stop waiting for that day to come,

And start to make it happen,

Take your ideas out of the box,

And watch them shape your day.

Soon your exit will be illuminated,

Hard work will line your path,

Creativity will be supressed no longer,

And reward will ensue at last.

So pick up a pen and a piece of paper,

A note pad, computer, telephone,

Go do your research and preparation,

Cause one day you’ll need them no more.

By Serina Hartwell

Author of The Hidden Saga

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/author-serina-hartwell.html

If you like my work, tell a friend. Thank you for your support.