Write a Book.
That’s what I wrote on my bucket list. I never imagined how much those three words would change my life. My initial motivation was simple. Unlike the fabulous Cherry Adair, numbers are my friend. English was not. So I thought the best way to improve my spelling, grammar and vocabulary would be to write a story

But writing it was the easy part. Editing that shitty manuscript took eight years of hard slog. I followed up that first course with several more. Then I hired an editor who also offered mentoring and boy did she have her work cut out for her. I learnt about POV’s and cliché’s, first person and third person perspectives. I learnt syntax, synonyms, sentence structure and just about everything else in between. I wrote short stories, drafted two more manuscripts and learnt the joys of character arcs. I worked hard, did my homework, read the prescribed reading, experimented and practiced. Then practiced some more.

I’ve climbed mountains. I’ve jumped off them too. I’ve ridden white water in a rubber raft flimsy enough that I carried it on my head. I’ve stood in front of a crowd of 300 and delivered a speech so powerful I could hear them gasp even in the back row. I’ve picked up spiders with my bare hands. I’ve changed dirty nappies after my son ate pineapple and I’ve even  ventured into a Walmart.
I am invincible. I have no phobias.

 Well I thought I didn’t. But I’m about to experience something that may change that high and mighty pedestal I’ve ventured onto. This terrifying feat can’t be avoided any longer. Even if I had the entire Targaryen army to support me, it wouldn’t help. This is something I must do alone.

This requires planning and protective clothing. This requires a good dose of tequila and bleach. Not together of course. This requires the full backing of my bravery. This is unavoidable.

Operation ‘Clean Under Teenage Son’s Bed’ is about to begin. If I’m off social media for a while you know why. If my hair is completely grey and I dribble the next time you see me, know this: I went in bravely and no amount of moldy socks or Tupperware containers performing their own petri dish experiment will beat this woman down. I am woman hear me rooooaaaarrrrr.

I’m going in…..