Today, a new reader of my recently released thriller Mia’s Magic Wand said that as soon as they started reading they felt goose bumps. I took that as a compliment, not because I just want to scare people but because whenever I write I hope to lead the reader to a door of self-forgetfulness. And I hope for the same when I read the work of others. There’s something sweet and healing about going through that door, especially in such a self-conscious and narcissistic age as ours.

Mia’s Magic Wand has been emerging from the mythic fog of my imagination for years. Sometimes the characters seemed happy with my writing but they often turned their backs on me. A long struggle was playing out, bruising and changing me on the inside. The wrestle came to a head one day when a lucid daydream invaded my consciousness. Going down the tunnel of death I met a stranger coming the other way. He grabbed me by the throat and screamed, ‘You knew I lived in your neighbourhood, you knew all about my s**t and that someone like me was never going to talk to you. Why the f**k didn’t you do something so desperate and so beautiful that someone like me would know that someone up there had thought of me?’

When I heard the comment about the goosebumps I sensed that the stranger from my dream was smiling.

Feel free to check out Mia’s Magic Wand here