My school teachers in Lebanon and France did everything in their power to suppress my creativity and so accepting that I was well and truly a writer took some time. About forty years. I always thought that my flitting interests and avid curiosity were due to a lack of rigor until I accepted that it was part and parcel of being a creative person. I was liberated.

Still, it was a bumpy road. Starting in my Politics tutor’s office in Nottingham, 1990:

“Yes, yes, it’s well written but that’s not how we write in English. You’re writing in English, French style!”

And continuing to Oxford in 1994:

“You don’t know economics for s**t, but you write very well.”

And so a love story began, not with my professor nor with economics, but with writing. I paid dearly for this love, because the only job I could find upon graduating was writing about kitchens and bathrooms. The upside? I got to write catchy punchlines for the in-house marketing department. If you can write five hundred words about shower heads, you can write about anything.

And so I did for a few years until a man jumped on the treadmill next to mine at the gym and my current novel was born.

Writing is very much like acting, my first true love. You can be whomever like, but you get to create your own characters! And so, I am first and foremost a mother, writer, editor, observer, runner, dog-lover, reader, writer, sister, and daughter. I love to eat, I love to drink, I love to have engaging conversations, I love to have coffee in bed and I love to read. I love music and I love to sing out loud. I love my kids, I love my dog, I don’t love my husband half as much as I should, I love my mother, I love my siblings, I love movies and I love popcorn.

Of course, I am a Gemini and I am on Day 19 of my cycle so tomorrow I may feel completely differently about all these things.

Tomorrow I may be someone else entirely.

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