So just who is JLCGhostwriter?

Well, whether you're interested or not... that is the question I have been asking myself for a long time! Who is this audacious woman, who dares to think she might have something to say to you, dear reader, that hasn't already been said a thousand times before, by people more literate, more intelligent, and with far more clarity and wit?
Where has this upstart been hiding for the past forty years, you may well ask?
Well, I asked anyway.

I woke up one morning at the age of forty and decided it was time to have a mid-life crisis. I was getting dressed, preparing to go my job with a mortgage company, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror (never a good thing to do first thing in the morning, caught off guard without make-up, and before you've had chance to heft things up and suck everything in...urgh), I recoiled a bit, naturally, and then, feeling a bit braver than usual, I decided to have a good look after all.
I didn't recognise the woman who was there. It wasn't just that the first flush of youthful beauty had vanished (I've always been a bit delusional), or that I seemed to have changed from a tall, svelte figure, to a short, round, slightly hunched one... no, what was really missing was gone from behind the eyes.
This woman had got so used to living her daily grind of pointless routines, that she was virtually dead from the neck up, the lights were still on (well, just), but there wasn't really anyone home anymore. Certainly no-one worth mentioning anyway.
What a shame.

When you have a revelation like that it's generally time to take action.
So I did, I went to work, and I proceeded to do my useful-but-oh-so-dull-job, because I still needed to pay the bills... and I made a point of not looking in mirrors again, naturally. No-one wants to be shocked twice in one day do they?

But somewhere something had changed. The clock that marked the moments off my ever decreasing life cycle was ticking away. Somewhere, someone or possibly something, had set an alarm.
Perhaps you might say it was to be a wake up call...
For Jane Cranmer, the one day soon to be Ghostwriter, the clock had started to tick... at first the hands began to go backwards.

Once upon a time...