I grew up in a farmhouse on the outskirts of Bristol, in a quaint little village called Chew Magna. I was the middle-child of three brothers; that was, until I reached my late teens and my parents had Max…then Evie…then Emily. I became the second-eldest of six siblings. 

Even when I was little, I remember sitting in the doorway of my bedroom, writing greetings cards and doodling little illustrations onto folded bits of paper. This was my “Doorway Shop”. From memory, my shop only ever sold one card; it was to my eldest brother, who had forgotten to write a birthday card to our younger brother, Ed. Being totally honest, I’m not even sure if he paid for that card. In fact, I’m pretty sure that he didn’t. Ah well, you can’t knock a kid for trying!

The important thing about that the Doorway Shop was that it taught me to consider readers, and not just focus on writing for “me”. Over time, I learned that creating (the right) characters and stories meant I could engage people, and create a dialogue with those that I admired and aspired to be like.

Studying Journalism at Newcastle University, I eventually stumbled across the wonder of rhyming children’s picture books, after a summer reading bedtime stories to Max and Emily. I found myself scribbling stories down in my university accommodation, and eventually plucking up the courage to send one to my best friend’s nan, a “ruthless” retired primary school teacher called Sheila Supple. Sheila was the first to encourage me to pursue authorship, expressing that my writing was “crying out for illustration”. Without Sheila’s support, I may never have published my first book.

The rest was…surprisingly difficult, actually, but I’ve come to learn that the best things are. So, for anyone considering becoming an author, don’t forget: it all starts with a story!