For as long as I can remember I’ve had my head in a book. So much so, in fact, that my father lovingly called me Edna for the majority of my childhood. You know – short for Edna Book.  (It was better than his first nickname for me, which was Kojak. Both Telly Savalas and I suffered from a distinct lack of hair in the late seventies.)

I read anything and everything I could get my hands on – pulp sci-fi, nineteenth century children’s books, murder mysteries, autobiographies, historical non-fiction, backs of cereal packets; you name it, I read it.

What at made me think I could write a novel? Is it because I read so many that the next natural step was to write one myself? Or is it true that all of us have a novel inside us, and mine just found an easy way out? There was none of Hemingway’s opening up of a vein and writing – all I needed to do was open a Word document.

Blushing Books have given me the biggest compliment anyone could – they looked at my silly little story and thought it was good enough to be made into a proper book. I’m still not quite sure how I managed to fool them into thinking I, or the book, was something that people would like to read.  Either they’re very stupid, or the book must be fairly good.

You don’t last long in the business world being stupid, and they’ve been around for a while. I suppose that means the book must be fairly good!

It’s a strange concept, that the words buzzing around inside your brain will be buzzing around in somebody else’s very soon.

I’m not sure I’m quite ready for it – but it’s too late now! The release date for Spanking The Governess (guess what it’s about, go on, guess) is September 11th 2015.  On that date I’m going to turn into one of the people that have brought me so many hours of pleasure over the years! I lurch between excitement and pants-wetting terror on an almost hourly basis.

Is that how a real author feels? I’m not sure. But it’s how this author feels.