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Christa L
Joyce
 In
1973, at the age of fifteen, my pre-exam school report read
‘If
this girl passes anything other than wind, it will be an eleventh
hour miracle’. I always
showed great promise, even at a young age.
I have been
writing since I could first form words on a page, I’ve even won
a minor prize or two along the way, but I only began to seriously
think I could actually ‘be a writer’ in
September 2000 when I signed up for my first creative writing
course.
I have lived an
ordinary life which I think has helped my writing by providing me
with the need to elaborate, to weave some magic into an otherwise
uneventful existence. Writing has turned me into a liar, voyeur
and a thief. I write things that are untrue and I watch and then
steal other people’s realities and manipulate them for my own
ends. That is fiction. Curiosity may have killed the proverbial
cat, but it is my inherent curiosity that has driven me to tap
into the rich vein of material that life provides....and it’s
all free of charge, there for the taking.
They say that
writing is a craft and can be learnt. That is true and I hope I am
learning every day, but the passion that drives ‘us writers’
comes from somewhere deep inside and is what makes us all a little
bit crazy.
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