How a health drive almost destroyed my writing career.

When I say writing career, please don’t take it too literally.

For most of my life, writing was more of a side line or a hobby, even though I wrote almost every day, mainly late at night.

If you want to talk about careers, then journalism was the one. When I explained this to the career’s advisor who was visiting my school, the man in the grey suit promptly despatched the idea as futile.

Then again, I also dreamt about being an actor or a rock star.

So, how did I end up as an environmental health officer?

In case you’re wondering what that involved, I inspected restaurants and the like to ensure hygiene standards were good. I also investigated workplace accidents, which came in handy when I was writing my first murder mystery.

A full-time job meant pay. I grew up in poverty and needed the security of a regular wage. Environmental Health gave me a qualification and a long, fulfilling career.

Without it, my first novel, No Accident, would never have been published.

Nor would it have been published if I’d stuck to my unhealthy lifestyle.

I’m the guy whose breakfast consisted of a chocolate muffin and a latte. Occasionally, I’d substitute a Mars bar for the muffin, but the principle remained the same.

It began when the adjoining leisure centre gained a Costa concession. No more making cups of tea for seven other officers, each with different requirements in terms of strength, sweetness and milk varieties.

All it took was a step outside for an early cigarette break and then head into the leisure centre for refreshments.

It wasn’t until a colleague took a photograph for a promotion campaign that I saw the results of my lifestyle. You’d think an increase in shirts and trouser sizes would be a bit of a clue, right?

No, it took a photograph, which made me wince. I’d put on more weight than an increase in shirt size suggested.

Drastic action was needed. The Costa concession in the leisure centre saw its income plummet as chocolate muffins and latte sales dropped. Naturally, I couldn’t let the remaining five Mars bars in the six-pack go to waste. But once consumed, the drive to improve my health began.

It took me a few weeks to improve my fitness at the local gym. As I’d never heard of breathable sportswear, my shorts and t-shirts were drenched after a session on the treadmill. Then there was the walk home, which was more bearable once I lit up a cigarette.

Six months after starting at the gym, I gave up smoking, oblivious to the disastrous effect it would have.

I couldn’t write.

Instead of working on my novel each evening, I sat there, staring at the computer screen, wondering if I would write again. I couldn’t concentrate. All the creative energy and inspiration disappeared, replaced by an endless debate in my mind.

Would I ever write again?

Should I start smoking once more to release the energy and ideas that made me a writer?

Only the energy and ideas had yet to produce a novel that publishers wanted.

In the end, it was a simple choice – health or dream.

I gave up writing.

My writing career was over.

If you’d told me the loss of my writing career would be the best thing that ever happened to me, I would have laughed.

Nine months later, without cigarettes to hamper me, I was running in the local half marathon.

Then Sovereign Radio, a local station, interviewed me about the impending ban on smoking in public places.

That evening, the itch started. While reading a humorous blog by a plumber, the urge to write came over me.

Could I write a blog?

It would be easier than plunging back into a novel that had been going nowhere.

A quick detour to WordPress inspired to write my first blog post. Radio Star captured my interview experience that day. Written in a direct, tongue in cheek style, it felt good.

Ideas began to bounce around in m head. Could I write about my experiences as the manager of an environment health team?

I was an enforcement officer, who often dealt with confidential issues. I could hardly post about my experiences online, even if I was mainly going to poke fun at senior management.

But my environmental health sleuth, Kent Fisher could.

As I said earlier, choosing environmental health as a career enabled me create a new kind of detective and write No Accident.

Fisher’s Fables was created. I hid behind Kent Fisher and let him deliver my blog posts. To make it even more authentic, I also used the characters in the novel.

Little did I know, as these first blog posts hit the internet, that I’d found my true author voice. My characters came alive in these posts.

Fisher’s Fables ran for seven years. At some point, I revised No Accident in my new author style. Almost immediately, it became clear that the story was going to change dramatically.

The revision became a complete rewrite. It took longer than expected, but another environmental health event led to me finding a publisher for No Accident.

It’s a story I’ll reveal in my next blog post in a couple of weeks.

In the meantime, if you’d like to read Fisher’s Fables, the blog that led to murder, it’s only 99p on Amazon.

While giving up writing may be an extreme way to improve your craft and novels, it forced me to examine my past efforts. Maybe it allowed me to banish bad habits, mistaken beliefs and the feeling inside that I would never become a published author.

I’m not advocating such drastic action for anyone, but if you’re struggling and doubting yourself, maybe you could take a deep look into what you’ve done. Or try something new, like blogging, where you leave the pressures and expectations behind and write what makes you smile and sing.

It’s thought…