Geraldine Evans
BIOGRAPHY
I am a British writer, born in London, England, and brought up on a south London Council estate, the youngest of four children
of Irish Catholic working class parents.
Like my older siblings, I left school in my mid-teens and started work - mostly a series of tedious dead-end jobs. Though, funnily
enough, the first job I had, when I left school at sixteen, was as an assistant in a public library, with the perks (at that time,
I don't know if such perks still exist) of being able to borrow as many books as I liked and never having to pay any fines.
Along the way, I met George, the darling man who became my husband. After a while, we started our own business, which we ran for a
number of years. I was responsible for the office side, which I did in the evenings, after work, and I had to teach myself VAT, wages,
all the general accounts and how to keep the paperwork clean, which was probably the
most demanding aspect of all (we ran a vehicle
repair workshop, my husband being a grease monkey).
Anyway, after the rent for the premises doubled, the business staggered on for a few more years until we finally realised we were
flogging a horse that was already dead. So we gave up the business and I continued with the dead-end typing jobs (which I had
never
been able to afford to actually give up).
I had always been a great reader, and, after all the frustrations of day jobs and trying to keep our business afloat, when I read
an account by a published author (Colin Dexter, the author of the Morse novels), of what had decided him to try his hand at writing,
it was as if I finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel and - maybe - it wasn't the train.
Anyway, my love of English and reading
eventually persuaded me to try to emulate this author and attempt to do something about my intellectually unsatisfying and creatively
unfulfilling life.
So, I thought, what the heck? Do it or bust! Fortunately for me, at this stage, knowing no one else with either any education or literary
aspirations, I was blissfully ignorant of how difficult it was (and is) to establish a writing career. Though, after the first book
or two were repeatedly rejected, a glimmer of understanding began to sink in...
Dear Reader
(as the Victorian novelists used to say), you are not alone in your pain and frustration; most of us have been there -
sometimes, like me - for years.
Because, for all my efforts, it wasn't till six books, six years and many rejections later, that I held in my hand a hardback book
that was published. That first book was Land of Dreams , a short romance. It didn't earn me a fortune and neither have any of my subsequent
books, nor, unless you're very lucky, will yours.
As for my non-writing life, I am still married to George, whom I met when I was twenty-five. He was (and, strangely enough, still
is!) older than me, and had two teenaged children when we met. Unfortunately, although he's some years my senior, he's definitely
not Sugar-Daddy material, having no more dosh than me. But we've been together for well over a quarter off a century - maybe that
has something to do with sharing various traits - we're both Librans, though my husband is not a reader. I used to have to threaten
to bash him over the head with the fryingpan to get him to read my manuscripts, but now, he volunteers (sore head memories?)
Along the way, I've learned what other experienced authors say - that it doesn't get any easier! Each succeeding book seems to be
more difficult than the one before...
I'd be grateful for some tips on making it easier. Please! Share and share alike...?
I still live in England, though in 2000 we moved to Norfolk in East Anglia, which we both love; partly because the area we live in
is so blissfully free of traffic or traffic jams
(compared to London, anyway).