"The time has come", the walrus said, "to speak of many things"

It’s no great mystery that I’ve been living and working in Truro, (Cornwall, UK) for the last two and a bit years. My full-time job is the one that brought me down here, and having left it is my reason to leave.
It’s finally time to pursue my passion for writing, so this rite is about how writing got me here, and how writing has scooped me back out.
I intend to do freelance copywriting and chase creativity whenever I have the chance.

I have always loved Cornwall. My family and I visited south Cornwall for years on holidays, year in and year out, nothing would change except sometimes the village we visited, or the four-seasons-in-one-day weather. The beauty drew us back year on year, so when a job came up I jumped at the chance to live in such a beautiful and timeless place.

My job was in retail – after five years using the past tense sounds mad – and I was lucky enough to manage an excellent shop filled with wonderful people. I have grown. Not up – I will never grow up – but lots of useful things have been learnt, both the easy way and the hard way.

Writing has remained a pillar of calm and relative normality. Having spent the bulk of time here alone, it has acted as a constant reminder that I can escape loneliness, albeit through the page. I’ve had short fiction read and recorded, written an ad script and made some decent headway into my novel.

Now I am able to fight writer's block with no distractions. This piece doesn’t really have an ending. It’s a new start and a new chapter. Stick with me, it'll be fun.