When I sat down to write my first book, the words just flowed from my fingers to the keyboard in a frenzy of activity. But when I read back the chapters I really cried. I was astounded. What did I have to cry about? It was not that my life was particularly hard, I had not been unduly ill-treated except in the normal run of life's experiences.
As I worked my way through the book, I came to realise things about my life I had not appreciated. I saw lessons I had learnt without really realising it. And I saw the direction the Universe had provided me with.