Many years ago, Hazel visited my mind, ever so briefly. Like a tiny shooting star, I could barely make her out against the darkness. But I did see her. She was dreamy and hopeful, on the precipice of some great adventure that we had both yet to experience.

Like me, Hazel was a slow bloomer, tentative but bright against the thaw. I had to grow into the writer I have become in order to tell her story properly, to give her experiences justice.

That growth sprung from dedication. And dedication grew from faith. Faith in myself, in the writer’s path, in Hazel and her story. It took time to dig through the rubble and find that fragile faith, and to put it out in the sun and hope it would grow.

Well, here we are. Like wobbly foals, Hazel and I totter side by side blinking against the light. She is dying to get out there and explore life with you all. I can see her grinning now, with those dimples she despises, restlessly scraping her rainbow shoes against the gravel, as if to say come on, then! It’s now or never, baby.

My heart burns with love and gratitude towards everyone who has had a hand in this birth. It takes a village to raise a writer, that much is true. I love you all. Hopefully Hazel is just the beginning.

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“It was time. I had to see who I could be outside those walls.”

THE COLOURS WE SEE is available in ebook and paperback on Amazon.

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