I became a teacher in my mid-20s having decided (or, rather had it decided for me by a complete lack of musical talent) that my rock-star ambitions were never going to come to fruition. I’d been in bands writing songs since my early teens – and that was the dream. It died - and I needed a re-think. When I became a teacher, I honestly thought all my creative outlet in terms of writing was at an end and that teaching was the future for me. A teacher’s life is so incredibly busy, especially learning the ropes at the start of a career, that it took me a couple of years to remember I was supposed to write (and then a lot longer to work out a way to make this happen). I began to watch authors like Tom Palmer, and poets like the late Wes Magee, come into school and deliver assemblies and workshops; I’d have been in my classroom and at the photocopier since ridiculous o’clock getting ready for the day ahead and these interesting, passionate people would sweep in just before 9 and captivate the children and adults in assemblies and workshops, maybe sign books and then be gone way before the end of day bell. Aha! I thought… I like the idea of that! At the same time, I began to really observe and examine the lives of the children in front of me each day, which in turn made me think back to my own childhood, plus my own children were also of primary school age. I began to write poems and songs and little plays for class assemblies – and all of these things happening awakened something within me… a niggling voice was telling me that my destiny wasn’t to teach, but to write.  And here we now are all these years later.