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I took her words on board and thought about what a ‘mini career’ might look like. I imagined myself as a student again, or working in a bar, or working on a boat (we lived on the coast). Then I remembered I was in my fifties, not my twenties. I needed a re-think.

Somewhere in the back of my mind the idea of writing a book crystallised. I had an ideal subject: my father’s revelation. Plus, writing had been a dream since my days as an English student, reading so many books a week I forgot which characters belonged in which story.

Like many aspiring authors – although I still can’t describe myself as such – I didn’t really know where to start. Ideas formulated in my head in the dead of the night; memories pushed their way in as I was pegging out washing; whole sentences appeared while I was in the shower. Eventually, I had enough material to begin the first section.

Once I’d begun, my fingers were on fire, racing across the keyboard, the story appearing almost unbidden on the screen in front of my eyes. Before I knew it, there were five thousand words. I calculated how many more I would need for an average-length book. It’s approximately sixty thousand, by the way. I was really pleased with myself. Then I decided to read it through.

It was rubbish.

And so, the process of editing began.

Half of those words were deleted and replaced. Another five thousand written. Half of them deleted and replaced. And so it continued. On and on: more ideas, more words, more redrafting. Original plan ripped up. New plan created and then ignored as the characters took themselves to places I wasn’t expecting.

Writing became the sole topic of conversation between my husband and I for almost six months. It made me smile and laugh, but at other times, tears dripped onto the keyboard.

It would have been amazing to be writing a book in a pretty cabin, by a lake in a warm, sunny, Southern European country, like Colin Firth. But isn’t that just a romantic notion? The reality was spending hours at my dining room table one long winter. Wind blowing and rain battering the windows; back aching from the upright, wooden chair; eyes squinting from too much screen time; hands frozen; and by the end of the day, fingers which would no longer bend.

If you are setting out on your writing journey, be aware that it is a long, sometimes painful process, emotionally draining and completely absorbing. On the flipside, it is a joyful experience. You are creating stories and characters for others to experience, making your own reality and most importantly, fulfilling your dream.