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Recently I did something which, in hind-sight, was probably very irritating. Instead of getting my just earned smack around the virtual head, I was rewarded with kindness, tolerance and generosity.

It’s a good job we don’t always get what we deserve :-).

Writers, especially successful writers, especially incredibly successful writers are busy people. So when I asked one particular extremely successful writer if he would give me some of his valuable time, I didn’t really expect a yes. But I got one anyway.

I blame the Bloody English.

The other day I told someone I loved them. Apparently this was a really bad idea :-).

The someone in question (someone I do in fact love dearly) got a bit worried. They went to another someone (someone I also love dearly), and asked if either of the someone-s should be concerned. After all. The whole love thing. Bad love thing. BAD love thing.

Bloody English. That’s who I blame. See, they got lazy.

Yes. I know. I said I'd post weekly. And here I am again, and the week isn't up yet. But a friend of mine asked this same question recently, so I figured I'd try and answer it, for me at least.

Why do I write?

Sure, there's an easy answer to this. 'So you, my readers, can read me.' And that's fine. I love you reading me. But while it's a perfectly good answer, I have to admit it's not all the answer.

Let me put it this way. I drive my mother mad.

Gandalf. Spiderman. Superman. Harry Potter.

Who’s the odd one out? No – don’t tell me. Not yet. Hold that thought…

What colour's your wardrobe?

OK. There. Wardrobes. Colours. And not an IKEA catalogue in sight. Phew!

Like I said in when I was wardobing. Fantasy. It’s different. Well, here’s the thing.

I lied.

Yes, I write fantasy. Yes, I write comic fantasy. Well, I do if you laugh. But there’s a thing about fantasy. It’s, um, fantastic.

Er - what’d he say?

Setting aside the ‘comic’ bit for now, I’ll say it again. Fantasy is, well, fantastic. Time for a side-trip – to the inter-tubes, Robin!