Last week, reading Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree to my two grandsons, age five and two weeks, made me realise why I write fiction myself. My five-year-old grandson has just started reading. It is so exciting to see him doing that after literally five years of his mum and me reading him three stories every night at bedtime. It feels like a miracle to see someone start to read. I write because I love to read, and I want to be creating that joy for other people. Enid Blyton is, of course, a throw-back to my own childhood reading (in a treehouse built by my dad, in a holly tree).

I’m still working away hard at NanoWriMo – national novel writing month – a challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days. I’m a little behind the target but still I have words, I have momentum, I have enthusiasm again for my own writing, so I expect to reach the finishing line with 50,000 words. See my previous posts for more on NanoWriMo and the medieval murder mystery I am working on.