How I Became an Island Writer (Quite By Accident)

Mature woman sat on balcony overlooking the ocean, notebook and pen poised..

I didn’t set out to write fiction.

In fact, if you’d asked me a few years ago, I would have said, with great confidence, that I was a non-fiction writing woman. Thoughtful, grounded, sensible, even.

But then… There has always been this niggle at the back of my head to write a book set in France.

Not in a dramatic, whirlwind, cinematic sort of way. More of a quiet unfolding. Farmhouses and shuttered windows. Coffee and chats. And somewhere in the middle of all that midlife messiness, something rather unexpected tapped me on the shoulder...

A story.

Then another.

And then, slightly more concerningly, a third, fourth, and fifth.

At which point I had to accept that this might not be a fleeting moment of creative enthusiasm. This might be… a situation.

Fast forward to island life, and things have only escalated.

There is something about being surrounded by the ocean that makes stories louder. Or perhaps clearer. As though the usual noise of life has been gently turned down, and what remains is the whisper of “what if…?”

What if the person you’ve just met isn’t who they seem? What if the place you’ve escaped to isn’t quite as idyllic as it appears? What if starting over… isn’t the beginning you thought it would be?

This is where I tend to linger.

Not in neat, tidy plots pinned together from the outset (I admire those writers greatly, from a safe and respectful distance), but in the delicious uncertainty of not quite knowing where things are going.

I am, it turns out, a pantser. (Writing from the seat of one's pants)

I prefer the term, discovery writer.

Which is a slightly romantic way of saying I often begin with a spark, follow it enthusiastically… and then find myself three chapters in, wondering who on earth these people are and why they’re behaving like this.

It’s a relationship built on trust. And mild confusion.

At the time of writing, I have… seven books in various stages of life.

Yes. Seven.

Some are whispering patiently. Some are tapping a little more insistently. And one or two are, quite frankly, demanding attention like slightly dramatic houseguests who refuse to leave until their story is told.

Do I have a perfectly colour-coded, beautifully organised system for managing this?

I do not.

What I do have is a deep love for story. For atmosphere. For those subtle shifts in human behaviour that hint at something more beneath the surface.

And, apparently, a tendency to say yes to ideas before checking whether I have the time, energy, or organisational skills to accommodate them.

My current focus is finishing one of my island mysteries and getting it published!

I'm making progress in the revision and editing stage.

Inspired by places where the landscape feels alive. Where beauty and unpredictability walk hand in hand. Where the line between escape and discovery is… not always clear.

And perhaps that’s what draws me most.

Not just the mystery of a place, but the mystery of people within it. The quiet transformations. The unravelling. The unexpected strength that emerges when life doesn’t go to plan.

So here I am.

An accidental fiction writer. An island wanderer. A woman with a head full of stories and a laptop that’s working overtime trying to keep up.

And this, this space, is where I’ll share glimpses of that world.

Not everything.

Just enough to make you curious....

Sally x

©sallysomerton2026