About to turn 40, divorced mammy to an almost teenage boy, named Joe, and a fur baby called Otis Reddy. Born and bred in Dublin but I’ve been living in Waterford city for 12 years. I’ve spent most of my adult life working in restaurants, which was fun while it lasted but it could never compete with writing when it comes to making my heart sing. My main experience entails freelance article writing for tattoo magazines and alternative websites. I’m currently working on my first novel, When the Glitter Won’t Come Off. I believe my strength lies in my ability to find humour in the most dire situations and I always speak my truth.
When the Glitter Won’t Come Off is set in Dublin in the early 00’s. It centers on best friends, Sam and Anna, two young women with big dreams and massive potential to achieve said dreams. The only thing holding them back is themselves. The story, shown through Sam’s eyes, is filled with a disturbing amount of drug abuse and the terrible things that happen to girls when they don’t realise how out of control their lives have become and the men that try to take advantage of them. Being a recovering addict, myself, certainly helps me to see what it’s like to live that way.. The denial, the ‘never agains’, the thoughts of suicide and, eventually, the process of admitting to how bad things are and how they ended up going in that direction in the first place.
Have you screwed yourself lately? I know I have.. And no, I’m not talking about in the fun and physical sense. I’ve often wondered why we put up roadblocks to our own success? I know for sure where I want to go, who I want to be and what the best version of myself looks like. I love writing. I want to share my passion with the world. Yet, at every proper chance I get to do that, I freeze and my brain fogs over. How can I create something new or express my inner workings when the only thoughts that spring up are ones of self doubt and crippling fear? My love/hate relationship with procrastination has been developing slowly over many years. It holds me back, while keeping me cosy in the knowledge that if I don’t try I can’t fail. But what would happen if I did fail? Have I ever been at rock bottom and picked myself up again? Yes indeed. Was it easy? Not in the slightest. But that’s where my strength has come from. The power I hold that keeps me going. The one that eventually makes me pick my pen up, even when I’m not sure that I have anything worth saying.
Having suffered from depression since my early teens I’m no stranger to feelings of self loathing, despair and seeing the world through grey tinted spectacles. There’s a little voice in my head that tells me that I’m not good enough, that nothing I do is worthwhile, that there’s no point in even trying. That voice can be very difficult to ignore. Reason pops it’s head up every now and then. It asks my negative side a few probing questions, such as.. If I’m so awful, how do I still have friends? How has my previous work been published? Why do certain people, that don’t have to be nice, tell me they’ve enjoyed my ramblings immensely? Reason may even remind that negative side of the times when life has been easier. When the words have flowed, when fun and entertainment and quality times with friends and family have been abundant. I’ve often danced into the wee hours without a care in the world. I may have spent as much time, if not more, sobbing into my pillow and feeling like I’d never be that carefree again. But I always rise. I eventually conquer my self imposed obstacles. The world will keep turning, regardless of whether I, or you, or any of us, give up on or go for our dreams. If I don’t do it, somebody else, someone who’s not necessarily more talented than myself, but perhaps a bit braver, will take the chances that I haven’t. They will put their mark on the Earth. Their voice will be heard instead of mine. I’ve decided that that’s not good enough. I deserve to be seen and heard and I’m not going to give up. Are you?