How My Book Was Born by Nicola Kearns

Holding my book in my hands to me felt like I had given birth again. Just like holding my first child’s body, I caressed every part, holding it up to my face and breathing it in. I had made this, this was my work.  It took longer than nine months, though. It took nearly a lifetime, a lifetime of longing. Since knee-high to a grasshopper I remember writing. Little notes to friends, letters. A long spell in hospital as a child was made easier by my grandmother bringing me in copy books and pencils and she told me to just write when I got bored. So I did. I wrote about the traveller boy in my connecting ward that got up to all kinds of mischief. I wrote about the rabbits I could see from my window and I wrote about all the simple things I should have been doing … Continue reading How My Book Was Born by Nicola Kearns