Apologies for not posting for so long. As some of you might know I lost my son who was fighting in Syria with forces opposed to ISIS. It’s taken me some time to get back any desire to live let alone resume normality. I won’t mention anything else about it here except to say that if you want to look into it just google Konstandinos Erik Scurfield. There’ll be plenty around.
My biggest fear was that in the face of such a terrible tragedy I would lose the will, and ability, to write. Of course at first there was no space for writing on any front; emotional, mental or physical.
Now I find that rather than lose the will to write it burns even stronger. Is this linked to the knowledge that life is ephemeral? Perhaps to a degree but mostly it’s because Kosta supported my writing. Even when I occasionally tried to embarrass him by asking if he and his Royal Marine mates would be prepared to pose for covers (in case I went down the self publishing route) he retained his equanimity. The answer was no for him by the way but he did think some of his mates would be up for it.
Or when I suggested I would write really ‘out there’ erotic romance and tell all his friends when I met them, he would get his characteristic, funny ‘Kosta’ look and then say, ‘Go for it, Mum.’ He wanted me to write. He was all about being the person you need to be, being true to yourself and doing rather than talking. He lived and, in the end, died by that ethic.
So the very least I can do is write.