Oct 18, 2018
4 min read
From a Failure at 12…
By the time I was 12 I knew I wanted to be a writer — a writer of some sort. I hadn’t dug down far enough in my brain to come up with anything more specific. I’d read du Maurier’s Rebecca. At the point in the story when the reader learns about who Rebecca really was, I found I had to reread it several times. Had the author really done that? Had she led the reader down the primrose path just to drop them off a Cornwall cliff? Yes, yes she had. I…
