I would like to welcome, a very special guest on my blog, author Carol E. Wyer

Thank you so much for inviting me to guest here today. I am always somewhat overwhelmed when I am invited to guest on people’s blogs. I normally suffer from immediate writer’s block because I can type all day when I am writing a novel, a story or a post for one of the author sites that I write for when someone says write a bit about yourself I always wander what on earth I can put.

So, at the risk of sending you all to sleep I’ll answer a question that I get asked every time someone discovers I am a writer:
“What made you start writing?”
This is a question that I haven’t been able to answer properly for a year. I haven’t been able to give an honest answer because I couldn’t put my finger on the moment when I decided I wanted to be a writer or indeed a well known author.

I actually started writing in my twenties – which is another story- but I only started writing for adults two years ago. I began writing when my son finally flew from the nest and I decided I was time for me to accomplish some hidden desires that had lurked for decades but there was something else before that. I just couldn’t think what it actually was.

I was awake a few nights ago and I had one of those Eureka moments. I had tracked down and isolated ‘that’ moment.

As a child I was one of those Army brats who moved from school to school, never making lasting friendships. I was also one of those really lucky children who was blessed with bad eyes which meant massive National Health tortoise shell framed glasses and to cap it all I smashed out my front teeth in an accident when I was a child and had large yellow false teeth. So, I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence and each time we moved towns or countries I had to attempt to forge new relationships.

By the time I got to the age of fourteen we moved yet again to an all girl’s school. The girls there had all known each other for years so I was a complete outsider. I did what any nervous newcomer would do to integrate I became the class clown. If they needed a laugh good old Carol would provide it. It didn’t really work though as they only bothered with me if I could provide them with some form of entertainment.

For a year I larked about and my studies suffered. One day however, I was sat in an English lesson. We had been set the task of writing a funny story for homework. I was wearing my spectacles on the back of my head and making the girl behind giggle when the English teacher, a formidable woman called Mrs Madeley, a Canadian who stood no nonsense whatsoever called the class to order. She wanted the class to listen to a story that had had her in stitches. We were all gob-smacked. Mrs Madeley wasn’t able to raise a glimmer of a smile as far as we were concerned, let alone laugh.

We sat back as she read out the work in question. I stared out of the window wondering which lucky Clever Clogs had won the attention of such a teacher. After the first two lines I couldn’t breathe. It was my story. I hid behind my long mousy hair and huge glasses.

The class began to laugh. They honked a bit more. The laughter continued throughout the story. At the end they gave it resounding applause. Mrs Madeley looked up from the book.

“I don’t normally divulge the names of the girls responsible for writing the pieces I read out but today I would like to thank Carol. She shows remarkable talent and I think one day we’ll hear more from her.”
The girls applauded again. I reddened further. The girl behind clapped me on the back. I had finally been accepted.

I had Mrs Madeley to thank for my interest in English and writing but I had to thank her for more than that because from that day onwards I no longer had to be the class clown.

So, there you have it. Finally, I have worked out why I began writing, why I developed a passion for English and why I stopped being an idiot in school, although why I behave like one now is a complete mystery!