Iused to believe that writer’s block didn’t exist. I started out my writing career when I was a full-time teacher, head of year and at times, interim head of department at a boarding school, a job that required me to be at school for a minimum of 46 hours a week and many weekends, plus marking and planning time at home. For the first two years before my first book hit the shops I did all of this and also wrote three manuscripts per year. I wrote late at night and on the weekends and holidays. I wrote in time snatched at lunch and on bathroom breaks and I dictated pages while I was stuck in traffic. I broke the rules of exam invigilation by planning scenes in my head whilst supervising students. I wrote on planes and trains. I wrote while I was suffering miscarriage after miscarriage, while I was battling depression and anxiety. I wrote whilst pregnant, and I wrote within two weeks of giving birth. I wrote when my husband was away for months at a time and I was a single mum of a newborn and I had to write instead of sleeping.
I was, in short, a jobbing writer, a full-time teacher, and a new mum, and I didn’t have time for writer’s block. If I didn’t write, nothing got done. So I sat down and wrote. Full stop, end of story.