Martyn Taylor

  

Who Am I?

 

On the surface identity seems straightforward, name, date of birth, and whatever relevant serial number comes to mind; arm of service, national insurance, bank account, all of them identify, but behind the name, rank and serial number, who or what am I?

Born in Sheffield, Yorkshire in the twilight of the nineteen fifties, I missed most of the swinging sixties and stumbled through the seventies as an awkward teenager. Did the required years at the local infant, junior and comprehensive schools and came out with a less than impressive clutch of certificates.

 

I had the stuff upstairs, struggled to get it down on paper within the three hours allocated by the exam board. Even then I was scratching away at “The Novel.” Totally in secret, nobody ever got a chance to see what I’d written and most of it ended up stuffed in a dark cupboard. I just scratched and scribbled through countless hours until…August 2001

 

I came away from a jumble sale with a Toshiba laptop and a compatible printer, a bundle of cables and a resolution – nowhere near New Year, except that was the target. The one day I’m going to write a novel had arrived. I would finish it before the end of the year! Remember the one about rushing fools and fearful angels?

 

 

Moving it from the shelf to the world took some time, about eleven years. Years of reading the various workings of how to get the book out there, but, and there is always a but!

 

The sub text in the self-help books played up the odds against the writer, and with shaky self-confidence came the urge to leave it on the shelf, tell myself that, after all I had written “The Novel,” and leave it at that. Others wouldn’t let it lie; prodding and encouraging from the side-lines.

 

The change came from an unexpected angle, after a serious discussion with my wife about being stupid and denying my own talents  I came across Smashwords and a way forward. Independence.

 

Who, what am I? I am a writer; I write for people to read. Independence puts my words directly in your hands, literally and metaphorically.

 

I stand on my independence; the voice you hear is mine, uniquely so. Maybe a bit rough at the edges and the prose may be less polished than some, but the voice is real.

 

There is no-one else to blame or take the credit. My work, when it’s good I’ll smile and take the bow, and when it’s not I’ll put my hand up and take the rap.

 

Welcome to my world of the Grange.  Take time to meet the characters who live and work here, grab yourself a piece of the action.