In the beginning was the word

Long ago, when the world was young, I sat down on a bunk bed, put my portable typewriter on a packing case, and hammered out my first novel. It was about an ex-spy named Maxim Gunn. It was terrible. But the feeling of satisfaction I got from putting in that final full stop and writing The End, was enormous. More than that it meant I could call myself a writer. Eight more Maxim Gunn stories later (a lot better) and there’s the beginning of a series. Take a look if you don’t believe me - http://www.tauruspub.net/Maxim-Gunn.html The thing is, terrible or not, I still have it. It should have been shredded, but it wasn’t. It’s tangible proof that one day long ago I did what so few people did in those days before computers and word processors: I finished a book. Of course, Maxim Gunn wasn’t the only character I wrote about. There are a lot of others in thrillers, dramas, occult and horror stories. Some have been published; others are waiting in the wings. But my point is, that’s where it began, in a hot room in Western Australia, with the sweat dripping off my chin. And I’ve never looked back. I’m a writer. Successful or not, I’m a writer and always will be. And it started with one lousy book.