Covid, lack of travel, and few opportunities to publish in print, means it’s time to hang up my travel writing pen.
Although I wanted to be a writer as a child, I had no idea how that was achieved by anyone – who pays a writer I wondered. I only knew men went to work and got paid weekly – they bought their wages home in a little brown envelope.
So, I became an accidental travel writer. During the late 90s I attended a 6-week, couple of hours a week, a writing course where I was encouraged to submit a story to a magazine – I did and it was published.
Since then, I have had numerous stories printed and have a large clipping file – this despite dyslexia and an inability to spell (thanks spellcheck) – had a travel memoir, and two small books published, as well as having a few stories accepted for anthologies, so finally, late in life, I achieved that childhood dream.
My books, Naked in Budapest: travels with a passionate nomad; Surviving Suicide: a mother’s story, and A love letter to Malaysian Borneo are no longer in print, but are available, free to download, on Amazon, as e-books.
My writing will now be confined to family stuff and maybe some short stories for anthologies.
Thanks to all who followed my writing – despite the bad spelling and grammar that popped up frequently. If you like photos, I will be still using Instagram.
And, if you too dream of writing, know it can happen.
That’s all folks, and haere ra from down-under in Aotearoa – New Zealand, Love, Heather