For as long as I can remember I have loved writing stories. One of the first ones I remember clearly was writing a version of The Highway Man in school. Instead of a horse, he drove a beat up, rusted through Škoda called biscuit. It was silly, but fun to write. For some reason I still remember it. As a teenager a read Steven King’s The Stand and had nightmares. I was fascinated by the way books could affect us. How their stories linger or challenge us. I enjoyed getting lost in worlds created on the pages in front of me. 

These characters had backstories for miles. Pages and pages later abandoned but I still know them by heart. 

Then life took a little detour, let’s say, and when I returned to writing, my work was dark, often violent (though with the heart of justice). It scared me. As a young single mum, I worried – I know it sounds comical – that the things I wrote could filter into our lives. 

Writing has power to harm as much as to entertain or heal. I stopped for a while. 

And then it came. I wrote – not with any intent of something coming from it – I wrote without editing – freewriting. I had a note in the prior page of my notebook.

You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl […]. Matthew 5:14-16 (NIV)

It was this prompt that I wrote to. And a young girl appeared on my page. 

A girl wearing a cloak was smuggled away, as a warning of darkness overtaking came in a dream to her dad. That girl was a light. Her family sacrificed everything to keep her safe. 

Something shifted. I knew I was ready to come back to writing. And the characters grew. Paul was abandoned and abused. He didn’t know light, he found belonging, but it was transient. He had fight in him. He longed for justice – perhaps from a really young age. 

These characters had backstories for miles. Pages and pages later abandoned but I still know them by heart. 

Those three years that it took me to write the book were a great adventure. My children were young and I would write wherever our day took us. I would tell them bits of the story and they would bring ideas. I would talk to friends about this story growing and weaving its way through my heart and imagination. I heard God say that I was a good writer, that they delighted in knowing my stories. I was surprised by storylines and found myself questioning sometimes if I was even the writer at all for parts! I quit my job as I neared the end, so that I finish it. It was almost careless. But I finished something. This was new to me. I have always been an idea’s person but have, much of the time, lacked the ability to finish a project. 

There I was about 13 years ago now, with a manuscript in my hands. It had started as Light-bearer and became Blood-stained Crown.

At this point it was passed on to friends (beta readers) and experienced it’s first reality check. My spelling and grammar were terrible! I am (self-diagnosed) ADHD and often don’t spot the little details. 

I edited. I then sent the book off to agents and publishers – 72 – I believe. I had some lovely feedback but no takers. I decided with a heavy heart to self-publish. It was in a time that everyone was saying the market it saturated. Don’t bother. But I was stubborn. I knew nothing about marketing. I put it online. A few family and friends bought it. But I never felt that it was ready. It never felt good enough. 

Over seven years I put it online and took it off. 

Something shifted last year. My two babies had grown up. They both left home and I moved into a place that would allow me to re-invest in a career that I had never fully trusted in. I actually put writing in the centre.

I paid for editors. I paid for a self-publishing company (GHP) to assist me. 

This year I will let Blood-stained Crown go. Releasing it into the world and trusting that it’s ok. It’s been a joy. 

The beginning of this thread will explore Blood-stained Crown and journey with it on its official launch – November 5^th 2026.

Come along with me, let me introduce you to Olivia, to Paul, to a world not so different from ours.

All my love 

H x