I Did Not Have a Dream

I've been away in Peru and the US the past three weeks, pursuing my other great love (apart from writing), which is heritage and archaeology. I studied archaeology and have worked in the UK heritage sector since leaving university, so it was a great and really edifying experience to go and see five world heritage sites in the incredible terrain of Peru. I experienced everything from desert to jungle, sea level to 5000m, and it was frenetic but incredibly refreshing at the same time.

When I got back I started thinking again about my writing. Partly I was inspired by my brother, Simon P. Clark, whose much more advanced and fascinating blog you can read here: http://www.simonpclark.com/. He has been writing fiction almost as long as he could actually write, and has always dreamed of being a published author. And sometimes a fireman. But mainly an author. It's inspiring to see him now properly represented and ready to start submitting his first MS to publishers both here and in the US.

Unlike him, I did not have a childhood dream of being a writer. I really really wanted to be a vulcanologist, or at least a geologist. This somehow got transmogrified into archaeology, which I have been passionate about since school. So writing came a) relatively late (26, gasp) and b) as something of a surprise. I only started writing as a sort of joke/experiment, after a friend and I were bemoaning the predictability of some traditional fantasy. But now I have just turned 29 (I know) and am becoming steadily more serious about it.

Luckily I know people who might at some point have met people, possibly at a party, possibly whilst drunk. These people may or may not wish to look at my work. One of them, my fantastic friend/editor Liza Jane Thompson, is working hard on improving my distinctly unpolished style. Stuff may happen. I'd like if it did.

So, whilst I admire the determination and commitment of those who have always known their writing dream, I really raise a flag for those of us who just wrote something and then kind of thought about it afterwards. It feels sort of flimsy to say that, but perhaps passion can grow in both directions, before and after the fact. Right now I would say I have definitely caught the writing bug. But I'll keep the archaeology in reserve.

Just in case.