I'm not a writer.

I've never been driven to write.

Not like other writers. Certainly not for any sustained period. Oh I have lots of ideas for stories just no real inclination to do the work and realise them. Reading about other writers' disciplined habits leaves me feeling envious. I'd love to be so passionate about this craft that I was compelled to write every day. I'm not. I'd rather read, watch TV, talk to people, surf the net. Do pretty much anything but write.

Cause it's hard. Or at least it's hard to start. Once I'm in the groove it can feel pretty good. And I love having written. But that initial obstacle of sitting down to put words on a blank page is a tricky one to surmount.

I don't know how I found the fortitude to write Winter's Shadow. Somehow the combination of turning 30, reading Twilight and thinking I could do better and being generally dissatisfied with my career prospects combined to turn me briefly into a writer. I would wake up every day, have some breakfast, a coffee and write. Some days I'd pump out 2 - 3 thousand words. I was disciplined and this discipline from the perspective of where I sit now as a middle-aged man struggling to finish a blog post is impressive.

Unfortunately, this focus lasted for as long as it took to finish the first draft. About six months. Deadlines made the other books happen. Once I cleared them I quickly reverted to my typical procrastinating lazy self.

Before Winter's Shadow, I'd written a couple of short stories and a half-dozen screenplays, however, there weren't piles of unread manuscripts cluttering up my desk. My conversation wasn't sprinkled with literary bon mots. Friends could get in touch with me without fear of interrupting my furious scribbling as I toiled away on my latest project. You certainly wouldn't meet me and think to yourself 'man, this guy must be some kind of writer!'

The adage is 'writers write' which is why I don't and never really considered myself a writer. Not a real one anyway. This might sound strange coming from someone who's published some books but it's true. I feel like writers – real writers – are compelled to put their butts on the chair and hit those keys. They work even when they're tired or bored or sick. They work without deadlines. They work when they're uninspired because the work itself is the reward.

The thing of it is I actually can write. Some people are good at playing basketball or mental arithmetic or speaking in front of crowds. I'm good at putting words together that communicate fairly clearly the ideas in my head.

Some writers aren't particularly gifted but are nonetheless very prolific. They have successful careers and deserve them because they work hard. Being good at something doesn't automatically entitle you to success. Working hard doesn't automatically entitle you to success either but I think you've got a better chance at it. And if you're good and you work hard, well...

For the longest time, I've put off pursuing writing with any kind of discipline. People (not a lot but some) ask me when the next book is coming out and I shuffle my feet or shrug and make some vague promise about having another one in the pipeline. But the years go by and no new books appear.

I've got excuses – everyone does, right? The thing is books don't get written unless you write them. And it's no good being a writer unless you actually write. I think back to that strange alchemy that produced Winter's Shadow with no small amount of wistfulness. However, I won't be turning 30 again anytime soon, there's no new blockbuster book I can try and top, and my day job is okay. I'm content. Nothing is driving me to write at this particular moment in time.

But still these unwritten stories rattle around in the back of my head, not asserting themselves, but not fading away either. And the only way I know to get those stories out of my head is to trap them on the page. Maybe that's all the incentive I need. Maybe that's all I ever needed.

M.J.