Erica Manwaring

Writing has been a constant companion in my life. I have countless folders of scraps of paper and journals on every book shelf. After university I turned my attention to writing adult learning courses and handbooks, policies and official communications.

But then a writing competition caught my eye. My favourite author was selecting bright new talent. Even if I didn’t win, I just wanted the thrill of knowing he might read my work. So my first novel was born. Speculative fiction about a young woman who finds herself detached from her body, observing her life from the outside like a reality tv show. And then even stranger, she finds a way to explore inside not only hers, but other people’s, minds. She learns a lot.

It didn’t win, alas, but he might have read it.

I write on trains, in cafes, in the evenings. I steal 30 minutes in my lunch break and then wonder why I’m hungry. I write scenes in my mind while I’m driving (multi-tasking, not dangerous, honestly), and solve plot points in my sleep. and most importantly I shamelessly plunder the knowledge of other writers to help me form my words into something better.

I’ll always write, and I’ll always strive to get better at it. But I will also always be motivated by the desire to have someone else read it. For better or worse.