Why do I write books? Why do I spend hours at
my computer creating lengthy stories? Today I like to see my books sell, as
does any self-respecting writer, but that wasn’t the reason I started out as a
writer.
It all started in my mortgage-paying days,
when I was an air traffic controller. As high-pressure jobs go, it ranks well
up the ladder. If a top brain surgeon makes one mistake, one patient could die.
If an air traffic controller makes one mistake, a thousand people could die. It
makes your eyes water just to think about it. I have worked alongside
controllers who succumbed to stress-related illness or alcoholism before they
reached the mid-point of their careers. I have worked alongside colleagues
under pressure who died of a heart attack before they collected their pension.
My method of coping with the tensions of the
job was—to start with—the relaxing pleasure of painting pictures. After a
gruelling period on watch, I would settle down at an easel and quietly paint
away my stress. No one suggested or expected I should make money out of it.
They recognised that I did it simply for the calm recreation it afforded me.
Later, I took to writing for the same reason. Instead of creating pictures in oils,
I created them in words. And it worked for me as a way of wiping away the bad
after-effects of the job. I’ve had a love of books from my childhood so maybe
it was a natural step for me to move from painting to writing.
Today, when the pressures of ATC are behind
me, I can concentrate on writing books that will sell. But that’s not how the
whole thing started.