Jane Davis

Apart from my Catholic upbringing, which Hilary Mantel claims is essential for all writers, I am quite unqualified. Despite being brought up in Wimbledon, I have never been to the tennis, but I did see the Wombles once (tall with surprisingly deep voices). My family has a history of artistic tendencies. My maternal grandfather was a composer, whose children found work in the musical profession. My Uncles, both flautists, played on Fool on the Hill, while you can hear my mother on the infamous Finger of Fudge advert.  As children, we were all pushed onto the stage and into compulsive exam-taking. My experiences left me with a hatred of classical music, terrible stage fright and panic attacks on entering exam rooms. During my formative years, I won a Blue Peter badge for naming Goldie the Labrador; had two pieces of work displayed in the Vision On gallery and played James Galway’s golden flute. None of this mattered: to my shame, I failed the interview for Crackerjack because I couldn't name of all of the Beatles.

I left school armed with an RE O level and a life-saving certificate, ignoring the advice that all smart girls should become nurses or schoolteachers. I chose insurance. Or rather, that was what the job centre had on offer, only a twenty-minute walk from home so I wouldn't have to get up very early. Sorted. 

I wrote as a hobby while clawing up the career-ladder, but it increased in importance to me, gradually taking over. My turning point was attending the Winchester Writers' Conference and learning by chance about The Daily Mail First Novel Award. That was a Saturday, the closing date being the following Monday. My novel, Half-truths and White Lies, was selected as the winning entry. It was published by Black Swan in April 2009 and has been translated into German. I have since published five further books, I Stopped Time, These Fragile Things, A Funeral for an Owl, An Unchoreographed Life and An Unknown Woman.