“There is no sin except stupidity” is the provocative Oscar Wilde epigram I chose for my page in my high school yearbook. I’ve always loved Wilde’s way with words, so last year, when writing a murder mystery playscript about an amateur dramatic society, I set it around their rehearsals for Wilde’s comedy play, The Importance of Being Earnest. Cheekily, I named my playscript The Importance of Being Murdered, and later turned it into a novel, which will be published next month.
On discovering the upper recruitment age for the British Armed Forces is 39, I feel a flash of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). I’ve missed that boat–or tank, or fighter jet–by a couple of decades. The same goes for the police force. Although there’s no age limit for joining up, they expect you to retire by 60.
I don’t know why this irks me. Despite my father having served in the Royal Navy, I never wanted to join any of the Forces. Even as a child, I knew I wanted to be when I grew up: a writer.
Tick! My sixteenth novel, Death at the Village Christmas Fair, will be published on 16th August.
Next up: novel #16, the third in my Cotswold Curiosity Shop series
Although I came to writing by a roundabout route, via journalism, PR and charity work, I got there in the end. I know in my heart I’ll never want to do anything else. Nor will I ever retire. I’ll be writing until I drop.
