I cannot believe how quickly a year has gone by. As the weekend neared, the excitement laced with large drops of trepidation intoxicated my every movement. It was never about not holidaying with the family, but rather more joining my other family; my very special Swanwick family.
A year on and I was still a fraudster in some eyes particularly those of my children, who cannot understand how I could legitimately join a writers school,having not had my novel published.
The few magazine articles I had sold were at most luck; at least an embarrassment so they could not count towards my job title WRITER. Let’s face it, my children had not seen sight of any profits from my articles. Why would they? My promise to myself was to put them towards my next Swanwick trip and so I had trip and so I had.
It was my eyes and my feelings that counted. I was returning to Swanwick School of Writers, and I could not wait.
The journey proved longer this year, being held up in a traffic jam and on my own for the whole trip. Excitement escalating with each excruciatingly slow mile. Was I nearly there yet?
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