In the late Autumn, fall perhaps being a more apt word, of 2014 there were a succession of life events that amounted to, perhaps a touch hyperbolic but let's run with it, a perfect storm. Each of them indiviually, no worries, that's just life, right? Together, they aggregated into a different prism through which to view the split light of life, and in which the events themselves take on a different lustre in the fading duskish twilight.
My name is Guy. Welcome.
When the Emporer's thumb came out of the hover and didn't go all the way down, I didn't have MND, ALS for those where autumn is fall, but went somewhat down because I did have Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis, the word 'progressive' causes a bit of a shudder, I was obliged to face the possiblility that I would probably not be able to work in a "normal" office enviornment. A near twenty year IT career was exactly that. Losing my job and my accommodation was going to make it difficult to not lose my dog too, and that was a, shall we say? "hard limit". Through the prism of ppms I decided to take different decisions.
In the early 70's I had a book thrust into my young hands by a well meaning father called something like How to Avoid Work. By Professor Reilly - I ought google it up, but then I might find I couldn't say - of whom I've always assumed the expression 'the life of Reilly' was coined in which he opined the way to avoid work is by earning money from your hobby.
So I will. By the time my choice point came along I had already written three novels and reams of poetry - don't tell any of my former army colleagues - and had acquired a belief through my friends at the Montpellier Writer's Group in Cheltenham that I could hold my own in their esteemed company, and my journalist friend and editor Sophie pushed me in the direction of ghost writing copy. That was a toe hold. A finger nail hold, perhaps.
The second pivot point came when I worked out I had to decellerate the downward slide into my own head and get out find a structure, purpose to my life. DD Johnstone offered me a place on the University of Gloucestershire's Creative Writing MA so here I am, blowing the dust off this old project to breath some life, and spice, into dying embers. And having mixed my metaphors, failed this module.
Feel free to have a rummage and find out more.