What’s in a name: when is it okay to call yourself an author?

I’ve been looking back over blog posts from the past few years, and came across this one from way back when I first decided to take the giant step of self-publishing. I enjoyed re-reading it and thought I’d share it again, with a few changes, since my personal circumstances have changed a good deal since then.

Writing historical novels is very different to calling yourself a writer. Back then, in the other part of my life, I ran an Irish dance school called Manx Trinity Academy of Irish Dance, which happened to me by accident rather as one trips over a step. It sounds very impressive and to tell you the truth the kids were very impressive. I don’t teach dance, having two left feet, I just managed the business side of things and enjoyed being involved.

Gradually, as the writing began to pay a little, running the dance school made less sense. My daughter had stopped dance, being tied up with A levels and my two amazing young teachers were ready to take it over. I missed it at first, I adored working with the kids especially during workshops when my main job was administering first aid and saying soothing words to a bunch of dancers who had been pushed to their limits. Still, the pull of writing was too strong.

In the earliest days after the publication of my first book, I was tentatively…