GONE by Julie Elizabeth Powell on Facebook
in her own words
Julie Elizabeth Powell, that's me! What a mouthful but I've used it in full ever since I had my first book published and now that I've been lucky enough to be able to put together this website, it seems only right that I continue...at least that way when anyone types my name in search engines etc., my books should pop up like a rabbit out of a hat!
I'm hoping to help others too! It's taken me years to find an outlet for my writing and now I'd like to say 'hey, take a look at my books!' and pass on anything that might be useful to other struggling authors. This website should enable me to do both.
I'll let you into a secret...I did not do well at school. I was terrified from the age of four until I left at sixteen. Anyway, this is not a psychiatrist's bench and you'd only be bored with all the reasons that school seemed like one of the Rings of Hell, populated with every monster you could ever dream.
But I wanted to learn!
So I read, and read some more and finally enrolled in English and Maths classes and loved it! Not able to stop there I found a place on a newly-formed initiative, where 'mature students' were encouraged to take a course equivalent to three A levels and, wow was that incredible! But like a rocket to the moon, I soared to university and three years later achieved a BA(Hons)...now is the time to imagine me whooping and clinging to a rolled up scroll! Oops, showing off!
Are you still there?
My point is that anyone can learn...more especially write, it's a matter of knowing how and coupling that with our experiences...of course a vivid imagination is a plus!
I've always played with words, marvelled at their power, like they were a jigsaw of magical enchantment just waiting for someone to piece them together so to thrill others. But for the most part, I threw away my efforts, until Gone.
Gone seeded then grew because of the most terrifying experiences of all...and it saved me.
My middle child, Samantha, was born with transposition of the main arteries, two holes in her heart and a blocked valve but at the age of eight months, the wonderful doctors at Great Ormond Street hospital put things to rights, so all was well...or so we thought. Tragically, her heart stopped at the age of two but was revived too late leaving Samantha severely brain-damaged. She survived for a further seventeen years. But Samantha had gone, her essence had vanished.
My story is one answer to where she might have been.
Samantha, three weeks before her heart stopped.
But then I'd done it...written a novel!
How could I stop? And what a world I'd created...it was ripe for another adventure...
I have many stories now, ready to be written /rewritten /edited or published but now my only enemy is time. And though I haven't as yet been able to find a 'publisher' in the true sense and tried another route, self-publishing has at least put my work on the market and I'll never, ever stop trying or writing because I believe it's worth the effort.
Everyone has something about which to write or, think of it another way, a writer sees a story in everything...
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