Daunting, anxious and considering myself as an imposter. They were regular feelings I had when I first began to write. I certainly didn’t want to appear on camera, because hitting publish was an ordeal in itself. Step forward and I’ve somehow conquered those inhibitions. I love writing, and that passion has spread into photography and videography.

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YouTube is staggering, and until I started posting I didn’t appreciate the sheer scale of it all. According to official figures, over 30,000 hours of footage is uploaded per hour. That’s a staggering 262,800,000 hours of footage per year.

Last week I wrote about the stretch zone (the steep learning curve) I am experiencing. I don’t think that will abate, because there’s so much to learn. On Wednesday I recorded 45 minutes of footage, only for it be sent to the recycling bin because I hadn’t initiated the In Body Image Stabiliser (IBIS), which meant that the video looked shaky. I belive it’s called the jelly effect.

It’s all part of accepting that things are not going to go to plan.

Visiting Fan Bay - White Cliffs of Dover

It all started last Saturday when my outside adventures were cancelled due to the torrential rain that lashed Britain. Sunday saw clear skies but high winds, and we headed to Dover.

Despite transiting through Dover many times over the years, I’d never actually visited the White Cliffs. Our first port of call, though, was Dover Castle, part of English Heritage.

However, when we got there, the castle was closed. Plan B was the White Cliffs. As a National Trust member, I was able to park for free, and we braved the high winds across the cliff tops before stumbling across a bit of a hidden gem.

Despite my love of history and knowledge of World War Two, I hadn’t realised that the Fan Bay Tunnels existed as a National Trust visitor attraction. So we donned our hard hats and descended 70 feet below the white chalk to explore a piece of World War Two history.

The site was once manned by 563 Coastal Defence Regiment, Royal Artillery. The whole purpose of the Coastal Defence Force was to keep the German Navy at bay. It must have been daunting patrol the cliffs and operating the gun batteries, knowing the might of the German army were only a few miles across the English Channel.

I was really pleased with the experience, and even more pleased with the clarity of the footage I recorded with my Lumix S5IIX. I love photography, but I’m still getting to grips with the high-performance cameras I’ve got.

Nonetheless, I managed to get plenty of photography in. I also recorded some of the ships passing through the Strait of Dover. It’s unbelievable when you stand there and notice how many ships are sailing to and from France and out into the rough sees of the Atlantic Ocean. According to one sign I read, up to 600 ships a day pass through the narrow strait, making it the busiest shipping channel on the planet.

After doing my best to produce and package a short video, I was pleased as punch to publish it on YouTube, only for it to get a handful of likes.

But when I think back to when I first started Substack, you’ve got to gain everyone’s trust. Everyone’s competing for your attention, and it’s a case of showing social proof that you are real, you are human, and you’re passionate about the things you believe in. In my case, that’s writing, photography and now YouTubing.

Trials along the Thames

During the week, I did several Thames walks. I lost one piece of footage because I hadn’t set my camera up correctly. When I reviewed it, the imagery was all jerky due to what’s called the jelly effect.

It was also disappointing to be chased out of Hay’s Galleria by the Royal British Legion at five past seven in the morning for not having a permit to photograph.

When I expressed my frustration, explaining that I’m actually an army veteran on my way to work, just shooting some photography to help with my anxiety, everything fell on deaf ears. The security guard got quite aggressive with me, all before a day’s work had begun. C’mon, I wasn’t disobeying any signs (which didn’t exist).

At the time, I was ready to write to the British Legion and raise a complaint. But do you know what? It’s actually not worth it. I put it down to a lack of common sense by the organisation, who were operating inside a public space without any warning signs up or anything like that.

Nonetheless, the week finished on a high when I walked along the Thames this morning and discovered that the Shard was draped in a blanket of mist (image above). I managed to get a couple of cool images, one in RAW format, so I’m looking forward to editing that.

And the adventure didn’t finish there. When I went around the corner near Tower Hill, I came across an old building that looked like it belonged somewhere in deepest, darkest Russia during the Cold War.

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I need to do some investigating because the building appeared to be occupied, but from the outside it looked proper disused. It got me thinking about the Apple TV show Slow Horses, starring Gary Oldman. A proper old-school building hiding in plain sight, and I wonder what goes on in there.

As I walked up towards Tower Hill, I looked over my shoulder. There were two gentlemen sitting in a meeting room, having what appeared to be breakfast, and it just got me wondering even more.

It turns out that the building is known as Custom House.

Something new in familiar places

I’ve been talking a lot about observation over the last few months. Despite walking through that part of the City of London for what seems like an eternity, I always find something new, always stumble across something interesting to ponder.

That’s why I’ve really fallen in love with photography, both in the city and in the countryside.

This weekend, I’m looking forward to a bit of stargazing. I’ll see how that goes.

I’ve also really enjoyed looking at and commenting on people’s amazing photography here on Substack. Despite my best efforts to post on Instagram, it gets very little traction. Whereas on Substack, there’s always somebody liking or commenting on your images, and some of the images people post are quite breathtaking.

So, anyone reading this, if you’re posting images, keep them coming because they’re really great.

That’s it for this episode of Diary of a Writer. I’m off to conjure up my next YouTube video. I’ve also put together a help post for those struggling to use AI, because it’s here to stay. People are using it for the most basic of functions, but a recent survey I pushed out suggests there’s still a lot of uncertainty.

One of the things I like to do is help people.

Enjoy your weekend. Thanks for subscribing, and I look forward to seeing all your pictures and articles.

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Woz. I’m a writer, amateur photographer and observer of everyday life, with a particular interest in London, travel, history. Through Diary of a Writer, I share the places I discover, the things I notice and the ideas that follow. I’m also working on Wayfinding for Generation X, exploring resilience, direction and what comes next.

What are you noticing more of these days?

Tips Accpeted

Plenty of people had told me the learning curve was too steep for beginners, but I worked my way around it and put together a really cool video from one of my walks around St Catherine Docks, beside Tower Bridge.

It raises the question. Am I a writer, a video producer or photographer? To be honest, it doesn’t matter, I love creating and I will keep exploring the curious side of me that fends of the anxiety and the constant noise that surrounds us in 2026.

St Katherine Docks A Walk with a lot of history

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I hadn’t realised just how much history the docks held. 198 years ago, more than 11,000 people were displaced to make way for the marina. The chief architect was Thomas Telford. The docks once handled a busy trade in rum, sugar, spices and even ivory. Thankfully the latter is no longer accpetable.

In 1940, during the Blitz, the Luftwaffe flattened much of the marina and the surrounding area. Warehouses were destroyed and supply chains disrupted. By 1968, the docks could no longer handle larger vessels and closed as a working dock. These days, the area is a hive of activity, with commercial businesses, bars, restaurants and the Dickens’s pub, as well as private moorings and homes. I like going there during my lunch break to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Square Mile.

Learning As I Go

The weather’s taking a turn for the worse here in England, which will be another challenge for both my photography and video work. I’m still getting to grips with my Lumix S5 IIX, so there’s plenty to learn on that front too. Sometimes it feels like you need a NASA engineer to operate it. As much as I love the iPhone 18’s camera, I still love the look and feel of an organic camera.

In the background, I’m working on my next publication, and this time I’ll be doing things a lot differently. My first novel is now on the bookshelves, but my family reported a number of spelling mistakes this week. And, rather ironically, the publisher has duplicated two chapters. I’m not disappointed; I see it as a steep learning curve.

The publisher has asked me to find all the issues. My reaction was, “Well, no, you’re the publisher.” But it’s all part of the learning experience, and we move on.

Substack is a really great place be at the moment, and I am really enjoying the sounds and images posted by and . I still beleive this platform is the best place on the internet. Do you agree? Let me know in the comments.

What ever you’re working on, keep at it and share your work with me.

Have a fantastic weekend.

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Woz. I’m a writer, amateur photographer and observer of everyday life, with a particular interest in London, travel, history. Through Diary of a Writer, I share the places I discover, the things I notice and the ideas that follow. I’m also working on Wayfinding for Generation X, exploring resilience, direction and what comes next.

What are you noticing more of these days?

🎥 YouTube - WayfindingForGenX

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It’s been a couple of weeks since I last wrote to you. Most of my time since then has been spent taking photographs and recording videos for my new YouTube channel, and it got me thinking about why I hadn’t done this before now.

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When I first started writing, I felt like an imposter. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that there were people with hundreds of subscribers, and I constantly asked myself why anyone would want to read my work. As I pondered starting my YouTube channel, those same thoughts went through my mind. But like anything in life, we have to start somewhere.

A top surgeon wasn’t a top surgeon on their first day at medical school. A Premier League footballer wasn’t at the peak of their powers when they first kicked a ball at six. Yet somehow, we expect ourselves to be good at something before we’ve given ourselves a chance to learn. Our own thoughts and inhibitions can stop us from starting something we might really enjoy.

It makes me wonder whether you’ve felt intimidated before beginning a project.

One thing I’ve noticed since I started making videos is that I feel much less stressed. Sometimes, when I’m writing, I can still think about other things because I feel at ease putting together blogs or updates on Substack. With filming, there’s so much for me to learn that it holds my attention.

Photography is something I’ve really fallen in love with in 2026, and it gave me the confidence to hit record and upload my first YouTube video. I stood outside a shop in Covent Garden and just spoke to the camera.

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Last week, I visited a National Trust site. While waiting for my coffee, I started talking to the camera in a public space. It was just me and the camera, talking about whatever came to mind. I even spent a minute talking about lens caps and how they fitted together when they weren’t on the camera body or lens. A whole minute on lens caps. It felt liberating to get past those early inhibitions.

Yesterday, I was talking to my brother’s friend, and he said he cringed at the thought of watching himself on camera. “So I won’t do YouTube,” he said. I explained that I’d been through that battle in my own mind, but once I got past the initial discomfort, I started to enjoy the whole process. Things became easier.

And it’s been much the same with writing.

I’m now a published author, but that doesn’t mean my writing was less valuable before I had a book published. Every time you hit publish on Substack, you’re putting your writing into the world. Surely you don’t need a book with your name on the cover before you’re allowed to call yourself a writer?

It does get you wondering, though. If you’re into photography, making videos and writing, what do you call yourself? A creator? I think that probably fits me best. Creating things is something I really enjoy, whatever form it takes

Of course, YouTubing hasn’t been without its hiccups. I’ve made several rookie technical errors. My wireless mics weren’t charged properly, and I lost some recordings.

At one point on Wednesday, I was walking over Tower Bridge with the lens set to manual focus while experimenting with the camera’s internal mic. That didn’t go well. The sound quality was terrible, and the footage wasn’t much better, so about 25 minutes of video was unusable. Still, I learnt from it and went out and bought an external mic.

The whole purpose was to get to grips with my new Lumix S5IIX ahead of my niece’s first birthday party. I’d spoken to my brother and volunteered to shoot some video and take photographs. What better way to practise than getting out and about, walking from Tower Bridge along the South Bank towards Blackfriars, stopping along the way to comment and talk to the camera?

The footage I could use became a 12 minute video. There was editing to do, but that’s all part of the learning process, and I’m really proud of what I put together.

I’ve enjoyed some amazing walks through September and October, with someone special at my side, and taken photographs I’m really pleased with. I’ve noticed that my stress levels have come down. So has my weight. I can’t put all of that down to picking up a camera, but I’m enjoying getting out, moving about and having something new to learn.

That’s what I want to take away from these past couple of weeks. I’ve made mistakes, lost recordings and spent time talking about lens caps, but I’ve enjoyed myself. None of that would have happened if I’d waited until I knew exactly what I was doing.

So give yourself a chance to try whatever it is you’ve been thinking about. Most of us are more capable than we give ourselves credit for, and you don’t have to get everything right to enjoy it.

What have you been wanting to try, and what’s been stopping you?

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Woz. I’m a writer, amateur photographer and observer of everyday life, with a particular interest in London, travel, history. Through Diary of a Writer, I share the places I discover, the things I notice and the ideas that follow. I’m also working on Wayfinding for Generation X, exploring resilience, direction and what comes next.

What are you noticing more of these days?

Tips Accpeted

I’m reflecting on the past seven days, and I have lots to share. At last, my book hit the shelves, even with a typo on the front and back cover. Good grief. I’ve refound my love for running (more of necessity to stay healthy), and I launched my new project, some 13 years in the making.

Last week, you may recall that I spoke about visiting St Dunstan in the East Church Garden. This week I wanted to dig into the history of somewhere I visit practically every day: Blackfriars, London. Those who have been following me for some time will know that I love to take photographs around the area.

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Blackfriars sits in the City of London, a short walk from St Paul’s Cathedral.

I’ve spent many hours walking along this section of the River Thames. I’ve visited the OXO Tower and eaten lunch there. I’ve stopped to observe the world, take photographs and just get out to enjoy some fresh air during my lunch breaks, but I needed to know more about this mysterious part of the capital.

The name Blackfriars originates from the Dominican friars who established a priory in the area in 1276. They wore black mantles over white robes, hence the name Blackfriars.

King Henry VIII suppressed the priory in 1538, along with many others. In 1666, the Great Fire devastated Blackfriars along with much of the City of London. Today, visitors can visit The Monument, dedicated to the Great Fire.

In the late 1700s, Scottish architect Robert Mylne set to work designing a new bridge across the River Thames. Blackfriars Bridge opened in 1769 and was originally named William Pitt Bridge, after the Prime Minister.

That original bridge no longer exists, and the bridge we see today was officially opened by Queen Victoria on 6 November 1869. Today, construction workers are working on both east and west sides, presumably to carry out preventitive maintenance.

I am more than happy to be corrected on any of the facts.

What piques my interest in Blackfriars is the architecture and the comings and goings of tourists and workers. So many people transit through the station. Approximately 41,000 passengers transith through the station daily, ranking as one of the busiest in the United Kingdom.

River barges, water taxis and all manner of river traffic pass under the bridge’s beautifully constructed arches.

And then there’s Thomas Doggett.

Nestled at the south western corner of the bridge is Doggett’s, a pubt with a decent view of the Thames. I’ve had a few pints in there, and the food isn’t bad either.

Doggett performed in some of London’s theatres, including Drury Lane.

In 1716, six years before his death, Doggett founded a rowing contest from London Bridge towards Chelsea. Race records run from 1715 to 2026, meaning the race is older than Blackfriars Bridge. This year’s champions was Callum Howard.

You can often see Thomas Doggett, the largest of the Thames River Sightseeing fleet sailing up and down the Thames. The boat is able to carry 524 passengers.

At night, the whole area is illuminated, adding to a sense of mystique. It was on the bridge where I first got to grips with my FujiFilm X-T50.

What’s not to like about this part of London?

Towering above Blackfriars Bridge is One Blackfriars, a large, glass, cylindrical residential building adjacent to a modern, contemporary hotel named Bankside Hotel. One Blackfriars also has a place in my own history. During 2016 and 2017, I played a small part in the construction project. It was a privilege to see the building take shape in what was quite a complex process.

In 2024, I attended a work sponsored course. The course was designed to improve public speaking and, ironically, the venue was Bankside Hotel. It felt surreal standing in the belly of the hotel, preparing for my speech, knowing that I had played a role in putting all this together, albeit a very small one.

I really enjoy public speaking, and my final presentation was a ten minute talk on mental health titled “It’s Okay to Ask for Help.” The irony of all this is that the talk was probably the catalyst for my latest project, Wayfinding for Generation X, here on Substack.

The topic reflected on my struggles with mental health in 2013, and it served as a clear message that it was okay to seek help in a time of need.

Please check out my new publication, especially if you’re Generation X.

Wayfinding for Generation X

Wayfinding for Gen X is about figuring out what comes next. Work, purpose, confidence, health, relationships and the strange business of getting older without necessarily feeling as though you have everything sorted.

By John Wozniak

Enough of that.

Let’s get on to some photography.

On Saturday, I made the decision to join the National Trust. I want to discover more of England’s rich history, exploring some remarkable places with my camera. What better way to do that than joining the trust?

Bodiam Castle

The 14th century castle was built in approximately 1355 by Sir Edward Langridge. It was constructed amid fears of a French invasion during the Hundred Years’ War. Unlike many relics, the castle has stood the test of time, and visitors can climb up the steep winding stairs to the upper viewing points.

Wildflife make the most of the moat, and I got the opportunity to get up close and take some photographs of ducks sleeping at the entrance to the castle.

I really enjoyed the visit, and although I know little about the 15th century, I was more fixated with taking photographs. I had two cameras with me that day: my mirrorless Fujifilm X-T50, which I purchased last December, and my new iPhone 18 Pro.

That’s put me into a bit of a conundrum.

You see, I’ve been a long time fan of Apple, not because of my name, John Wozniak (no relation to the cofounder of Apple), but because I just like the functionality of the iPhone and MacBook.

Last month, during the trip to Spain, I ended up dumping a load of apps and deleting random photographs because my phone didn’t have adequate storage. 128GB just wasn’t cutting it. So I traded my iPhone 16 in for the iPhone 18 Pro, and I didn’t quite understand what I was letting myself in for.

Let me explain.

The camera on the iPhone 18 Pro has just blown me away. It is so good. I’m now seriously considering what to do with my Fujifilm. The one thing keeping the Fujifilm in my inventory is that I like the look and feel of holding an actual camera.

As you’ll see from some of the images I’ve taken, the optical zoom on the iPhone is incredibly good. The whole package is absolutely breathtaking. For a similar lens for a Fujifilm, I could be paying up to £3,000.

Ouch!

I’m getting to the stage of my life where I’m taking photography seriously. It’s become a really important part of who I am and what I do, especially when I’m out and about on my lunchtime walks. Those of you who’ve been following me for some time on Substack will know I like to get out and about, and my favourite way to find headspace is to take get behind the lens.

I made the short walk to Shoreditch yesterday to shoot street photography, this time with the Fujifilm and a 35mm lens (I never edit any of my images).

Nonetheless, I’m privileged to own both cameras, and I’m grateful for the fact that places like those managed by the National Trust exist because they provide a great way to get away from the hustle and bustle of city and town life.

This weekend will provide another opportunity to visit more national heritage sites. Being a lad from Yorkshire and supporting Sheffield Wednesday, clearly the next obvious location is Sheffield Park and Garden in East Sussex. I look forward to reporting back in a week’s time on how the visit went.

In the meantime, dig into the archives and learn about Blackfriars. If you ever get the chance to go there, it’s a great place to visit. It’s not far from Millennium Bridge, and there are some great pubs and restaurants in the area around Blackfriars.

Spending a whole day in that part of the City of London is worth it. Don’t miss St Paul’s Cathedral, a building that I absolutely love to photograph. I cannot walk past it without taking a shot.

If you’re feeling brave and you’ve got sea legs, get on one of the city cruises along the River Thames. Before I go, I’ve got a confession: I’ve never actually sailed on one.

But...

In 2012, I sailed from Gosport in Hampshire, along the south coast of England, through the Strait of Dover before entering the Thames Estuary. Our final destination was Tower Bridge. The event marked some of the Queen’s Jubilee celebrations. I was one of ten aboard the Royal Artillery yacht.

It was a great experience, and I even had the opportunity to skipper the yacht from the Thames Estuary.

Until next time.

Thank you for reading and drop me a comment if you liked this post.

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Woz. I’m a writer, amateur photographer and observer of everyday life, with a particular interest in London, travel, history. Through Diary of a Writer, I share the places I discover, the things I notice and the ideas that follow. I’m also working on Wayfinding for Generation X, exploring resilience, direction and what comes next.

What are you noticing more of these days?

Tips Accpeted

For weeks, I had convinced myself that something wasn’t right. I’d wake during the night, remember those periods of being awake and assume I’d hardly slept at all. By morning, the story was already written in my head. Another bad night’s sleep.

Then I started wearing my Apple Watch to bed.

Four weeks later, I had enough data to challenge something I’d believed for quite a long time. I wasn’t sleeping badly. In fact, I was getting considerably more sleep than I thought.

That got me thinking about something much bigger than sleep.

How often do we mistake what we feel for what is actually happening?

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For Generation X, many of us grew up with the idea that you simply got on with things. Tired? Get up. Stressed? Carry on. But perhaps getting older means learning to pay a little more attention to what our minds and bodies are actually telling us.

Sometimes what feels true isn’t necessarily the whole story.

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With a book about to hit the shelves, I’ve kicked off my next writing adventure, Wayfinding for Generation X. The book is written for people of my generation who might be in search of a beacon. I’ve needed a beacon on more than one occasion, so I am hoping to provide some light for others. Regular readers of Diary of a Writer will know that I’ve been writing old school, with a bit of a twist, using my iPad and Apple Pencil.

Sat on board the train during my commute, I have been writing a lot about different aspects of life, from observation, body language, the words we use, motivation and mental resilience.

On Tuesdsay I opened Apple maps and did a desktop recce of the City of London. I wanted to find somewhere new to visit. To my surprise, I stumbled on St Dunstan in the East Church Garden. This mysterious location sits in the shadow of 20 Fenchurch Street, also known as the Walkie Talkie buidling which houses the Sky Garden.

I have walked past this part of London a hundred times, but it took a map recce for my to discover it. Here is me writing about observation and I’ve missed a piece of history that’s been calling my name and my camera.

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The church dates back to 1100, when King Henry I ruled and England was a generation removed from the Norman conquest of 1066. The year 1100 also marked the completion of The White Tower, the largest part of the Tower of London complex.

The Great Fire of London destroyed many buildings, and it severely damaged St Dunstan. Then along came Christopher Wren, who designed the tower and the steeple.

I learned that the church was rebuilt in the 19th century by David Laing, giving the church’s appearance a patchwork of London history. I am not an architect and I would never have guessed.

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The church was damaged by the Luftwaffe during a bombing raid in 1941. Bombing accuracy was limited because technology hadn’t advanced enough to carry out precision strikes in the early 1940s.

The church is a Grade I listed building, and after the decision was made not to rebuild it, the ruins were transformed into a public garden, which opened in 1970.

The garden at lunchtime gets busy, and I did my best to shoot some images, but as good as the new iPhone is, I want to revisit with my Fujifilm and 35mm lens. Watch this space.

I really enjoyed discovering this garden, and while I was there I imagined writing a spooky poem for Halloween.

Staying observant doesn’t always mean that you see everything. Sometimes all it takes is a prompt.

Next time on Diary of a Writer, I’ll be reporting from a place I visit every day, a place also steeped in history. Blackfriars.

Don’t miss it.

What have you walked past a hundred times without ever really noticing?

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If we haven’t met yet, I’m Woz. I’m a writer, amateur photographer and observer of everyday life, with a particular interest in London, travel, history. Through Diary of a Writer, I share the places I discover, the things I notice and the ideas that follow. I’m also working on Wayfinding for Generation X, exploring resilience, direction and what comes next.

What are you noticing more of these days?

The mind is powerful, and it can also be disruptive. I recently wrote about hooks, the murky thoughts that spin up and pull us away from perspective and joy. Hooks can lead to overthinking, negative thoughts and frustration.

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The Stoics spoke about the Citadel, a spiritual inner sanctuary protecting the mind from the noise beyond its walls. A Citadel is whatever you choose it to be, and I like that idea. But even the strongest of Citadels can experience unrest, and when the citizens become restless, the light fades and the skies above begin to darken.

In this case, the citizens I refer to are our thoughts, both good and bad. As I wrote this week in Wayfinding for Gen X, I am consciously trying to address patience, overthinking and diet, three things I have struggled with over the years. I don’t believe in quick wins, as many social media creators will try to peddle, but I do believe in growth, and that can sometimes take time. Just like this Substack.

Think of the last time you got angry or frustrated. That time represents a Citadel in chaos. A fire, riot or even an uprising.

During my battle with depression in 2013, my Citadel walls had been razed to the ground, its foundations were sinking, and the once blue skies were replaced by a violent storm.

Today, my Citadel is built on a bed of granite, its walls are six feet thick and they stand 12 feet tall. The impregnable structure doesn’t prevent the unrest or turbulence, but a good sentry remains vigilant, on the lookout for enemies, both external and internal.

The foothills of Andalusia, the golden beaches of the Indian Ocean and the autumn trails of Oregon all sound magical, but it’s what lies within us that is our true place to find comfort, healing and perspective.

As I’ve journeyed through 2026, I have come to realise that less is more. A simple meal on the veranda of a Spanish villa has more meaning than a banquet at an overpriced restaurant.

External factors such as marketing campaigns and social media feeds will do what they can to latch hooks onto the walls of the Citadel, but a good sentry will keep harm at bay.

The challenge is training the sentry to stay calm, not panic and keep perspective under all conditions. That sentry is you.

How well are you guarding your Citadel?

Today, a wander off the beaten track revealed a fantastic stretch of road between the coastal town of Torrox and Nerja. Beachside tavernas, small beaches and the sight of the gentle waves of the Mediterranean Sea were enough to convince me to return to this part of the world in 2027, as part of my 50th birthday celebrations.

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Spain will always carry the stigma of loud bars, cheap beer and tourists walking around with their tops off, but I see the country as a place of beauty, especially when you know which places to avoid.

Ronda, Estepona, the village of Cómpeta and today’s mini excursion are the highlights of this wonderful trip. The tapas has been as good as the weather, and I’m pleased to have picked up a few more Spanish phrases. My favourite phrase is ‘todos juntos, por favor’, all together please, which is especially useful when ordering an entree with your main course.

Ernest Hemingway fell in love with Ronda after visiting in 1923. I am not a fan of bullfighting, but it was certainly up Hemingway’s street. Today there’s a street named after him. You can find Paseo de Ernest Hemingway, situated next to the Plaza de Toros.

It was in Ronda where I ate arguably the best cheesecake ever. Sadly, it ruined my appetite and I left the beautiful town without sampling any other local cuisine.

Today’s lunch consisted of mixed fried fish (octopus, squid, white fish and langoustines) and a prawn and avocado salad. The dishes were as good as the tranquillity of the setting, a covered veranda right on the beach.

Tonight I have booked a table at a local restaurant here in Cómpeta. One thing I’ve learned is that if you don’t book here, you’ll be hard pressed to find a walk in.

As an introduction to the newcomers to Diary of a Writer, I am writing a book aimed at over 45s (draft title, Piecing Together the Jigsaw of Life), and I’ve been fortunate to work on the book morning and dusk, sitting right here on the villa’s veranda. I’ve milked every moment, waiting for the sun to rise and listening to the birds in full chorus. The cicadas have been very quiet during the last two days, but it has meant being able to listen to other sounds of nature.

Last night, the local shepherd brought his herd of goats up the mountainside. His dog was a beast of an animal, and it looked rather scary.

One of the most liberating aspects of this trip is the many photographs I have taken. I’ve used several lenses. The iPhone 16, my iPad Air, FujiFilm XT50, Insta360 Luna Ultra and DJI Osmo Pro 5 have all been at my disposal.

There is a Leica lens on the Luna Ultra, and it’s absolutely brilliant. I’ve really enjoyed using my FujiFilm with a 35mm lens because it feels very natural and there is an element of art to setting the camera up to get the right shot. All in all, it’s been a magical experience, and it gives me goosebumps thinking about the experience.

I really appreciate everyone’s comments on my notes because it’s made the experience even more enjoyable.

I will leave you to soak up some of my favourite pictures.

Until next time.

Adios.

John

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The only sounds I can hear are the birds and my keys as I type. The silence will be broken later by the ubiquitous cicadas. The insect, known locally as cigarras or chicharras, emits a high frequency pitch. It worried me when I first heard their call because I thought an electrical cable was shorting out. Electric. That’s the only way I can describe the sound. If I were a musician, I would call it the soundtrack to a scorching western Mediterranean summer.

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If you know me, you’ll know that I had to find out more about these amazing creatures.

Cicadas spend most of their lives underground as nymphs, feeding on fluids from plant roots. When conditions are right, they emerge, climb trees or walls, shed their outer skin and become adults. The empty shells are often left clinging to tree trunks. By the way, who knew that an iPad had such a capable lens! That’s three things I have learned in a matter of minutes.

A trip to Cádiz yesterday didn’t meet expectations. I think in part because the service is geared around the hundreds of tourists who explore the city from the cruise liners. Liberty of the Seas and two other liners were moored up in the city’s port. I am grateful for the opportunity to have visited Cádiz, including its magnificent cathedral, but it felt good being able to retreat to this wonderful villa.

There is a cactus in the grounds of the villa. Google Lens informs me that this is a tree, a Candelabra Tree, and there was me thinking it was a cactus. Anyway, for some reason I have called it Bob. As I near the ripe old age of 50, I’ve come to admire and respect nature.

I’ve paused to marvel at the sunrise. The pictures say it all, and it also remimds me to add more images into my posts.

It’s day 27 of my latest adventure. The draft title ‘Solving the Jigsaw of Life’ is aimed at over 45s, but on reflection most people will be able to resonate with what I have written.

I can’t state how much I have enjoyed writing the book, and the best thing is being able to sit down and let the words flow. Words that emanate from experience. The experience feels natural, and this morning I wrote about gratitude.

We live in a connected world. I am not talking about social media, I am referring to our actions. Had I not been in Spain, I wouldn’t be sitting here in this tranquil setting writing, relaxing and brushing up on my limited Spanish.

But that’s the point of the book. We all have strengths, weaknesses and inhibitions. I’m learning to push beyond my often self deprecating thoughts. My debut book is ready to be published. I am grateful for the experience and, as many people have said, it’s never too late to start something new.

Tomorrow sees the final day of the Torre del Mar air show. I’ll be visiting and I am looking forward to hearing the roar of the F35 Lightning.

A gentle breeze has subsided and the birds are singing. I can hear the gentle trickle of the pump circulating the water in the pool, which is a lovely way to end this edition of Diary of a Writer.

Have a pleasant weekend.

John.

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When we investing in time and money, how do we know we’re making the right choice? Six months ago I set about launching a mental health support network. My coach, friends and family said it was a good idea, but the acid test came when I searched for customers. Organisations didn’t want to engage. It was as if I was telling them that they had a problem, and they didn’t want to hear what I had to say.

There are two ways to look at the situation, through a narrow lens or wide lens.

The narrow lens suggests that my venture failed. The road hit a dead end.

The wide lens has a different perspective and involves outcome thinking. Let’s explore this notion.

The experience during that venture was valuable. I became a planner, a marketer, a communicator, an organiser. The doubts crept in, but I pushed through the pain barrier in what I will refer to as the Stretch Zone.

Everyone has encountered this phenomenon at some point in their lives. Think about it. You learned to walk, talk, read, write and do maths. The latter exhausts my mental horsepower, and today I am more at ease with a spreadsheet formula than I am with pencil and paper. The Stretch Zone allows us to grow and evolve. You know when you’re in your stretch zone because you will feel uncomfortable.

A few years ago, I worked for a main contractor, and for the first three months I found things incredibly difficult. There were new systems to learn, new clients to build a rapport with, terminology and processes I didn’t fully understand.

I had to lean on my experience to stay calm and patient, and the latter doesn’t always come easily to me. Eventually, I mastered the ropes and I began to relax, but that comes with danger. I began to feel unchallenged towards the end of my tenure, even when I took on additional tasks.

The Stretch Zone is essential if you want to lead. Think of Cook. Whilst he led global expeditions, people back home laboured for others, stuck to a routine or refused to learn new skills.

During my venture, I launched a TikTok channel. I found the experience miserable. The whole platform was full of people spouting nonsense about growth assumptions. Nonetheless, using the wide lens approach, or outcome thinking, I have learned from that experience, and I will channel my energy on other platforms.

Reflect for a moment and think of a time that you believe you have wasted. What did you learn from it? What would you do differently? Have you taken action?

As I write my new book aimed at wayfinding for over 45s, I have come to realise that experience counts for a lot. Turbulence in my childhood, 25 years in the military, and an encounter with depression have given me a lot of tools and coping mechanisms.

I’ve written about my mission to lose weight (again). I’ve made mistakes in life, I’ve made poor choices and squandered money, but I have also enjoyed some great adventures, met interesting people and visited fascinating places. I’m also a student of life.

Substack is the world’s unsung hero for personal and professional development. Research suggests that there are 32 million free subscribers on this platform. Think about the combined age of creators. That’s a lot of knowledge.

When I set out on Substack, I had no real vision. I just wanted to write. As I near 50, I have a sense of wanting to give something back, because I believe that everyone can learn something from anyone.

My mental health venture didn’t die. It was the kindling for what is to come. I hope to publish my new book before I am 50, that’s in eight months’ time. The book, Diary of a Writer and my YouTube channel, Wayfinding with Woz (launching soon), will form part of that coaching framework.

Am I making the right choice? Outcome thinking says I am, and the golden rule with anything in life is simple. You must take action if you want to inspire change.

Before I wrap up, have a think about your recent choices. View them through a wide lens. How does that change your perspective?

I appreciate your time, so thank you for reading Diary of a Writer.

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Tips Accpeted

For 18 days, my commutes in and out of London have become precious. Time is precious and I have been using my time wisely. While other commuters scroll through social media, or stare blankly through the window at the rolling scenery, I have been busy. I have been using my free time to write with my iPad and Apple Pencil. There’s something therapeutic about that.

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My second book started with a question

The original idea for the book came from a moment of reflection. It got me thinking.

What happens when you reach your late forties or fifties and start wondering what comes next?

You might be content at work. You might have a stable family, qualifications, a range of experiences and a CV that suggests you are a complete person.

But what if you are not? I am still trying to figure things out, and as I approach 50, despite everything I have experienced, I still find myself asking questions. You could argue that I put myself under lots of pressure.

I had a plan to call the book Solving the Jigsaw of Life, but as the book evolves, ideas have come to life. As I write my thinking pattern roars into life.

It’s funny how things transpire, because I imagined something much more structured with chapters, themes and exercises, but that concept has been packaged and repackaged. So I started writing about my day, wisely using the time on my commute.

The book is essentially a live journal, and as I am writing, I am talking to the reader. I am not writing as if I am preaching to an audience, as the ancient Stoics once did.

You could say I am treating the whole experience as an adventure, seamlessly flowing through each of life’s midlife challenges, from sleep patterns to health and fitness. As I near the milestone of 50, I have come to realise that health and wellbeing is a key priority.

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Regular readers of Diary of a Writer will know that I have suffered my fair share of anxiety attacks, but I’ve reduced my caffeine intake from umpteen cups of coffee to one on a Saturday. The results have been amazing, and I am no longer at the mercy of afternoon bouts of brain fog. Let me tell they were truly awful.

Are you guilty of putting things off because you’re someone who is self deprecating? I am not ashamed to say that I have been that person. I believe most of us are more capable than we give ourselvse credit for.

As I noted the other day, there’s something simple about writing by hand, just as yesterday’s wordsmiths did. There’s no formatting, no distractions and no programmes telling you to change pace or to use active sentences.

We can all feel trapped by our circumstances, but our minds are free to wander, but that’s if we let them. I’ve written about Nelson Mandela, a man who, despite being imprisoned on Robben Island, exercised his mind to great effect.

I doubt there are many people who like washing the dishes, but there are studies that suggest being present in the moment relieves stress. The point is that we can go through life without really paying attention. Life is full of experiences, and I am not afraid to experiment with coping strategies, nor should you be.

Being aware, and using the tools tought by Neuro Linguistic Programming (NLP) coaches is a recurring theme in the book. Those who have studied NLP have spoken about feeling enriched.

As the song goes, East bound and down, loaded up and truckin’. Mindfulness comes in many forms, and I believe the best life to live is an enriched one. Singer Jerry Reed springs to mind when I think of a happy go lucky person.

Reed was a charismatic artist. He was a country singer, songwriter, guitarist and actor who didn’t just perform, he loved what he did. Life gave him plenty to wrestle with, including addiction, yet his smile never seemed to fade on camera or on the stage. His enthusiasm was the real thing. Diary of a Writer, November 2025

If you’re a Substacker, there is a good chance that you’re sharing wisdom, and until now I never thought about reading through my archives, adding anecdotes for my new book. Right now I don’t feel like I need the archives, but that doesn’t mean to say they are not relevant.

A few weeks ago I boarded a train. The outside temperature was stifling. Oh, the irony as I boarded the hottest tin can on the planet. I couldn’t believe the heaters were switched on. The situation got the better of me, and I didn’t use any of my coping techniques to deal with the oppressive environment. The situation got me thinking.

Hooks and helpers

One idea I keep returning to is something I call hooks and helpers. I have written about this in the book. Hooks are the things that drag us towards anxiety, frustration or negative thinking. Self doubt can be a hook. Overthinking can be a hook. Work stress can be a hook.

The voice telling you that you are too old to try something new can definitely be a hook. Helpers move us in the other direction.

Writing is one of mine. Photography is another. Walking helps, especially if you factor it in with another activity like photography, or walking with a friend.

Watching sport can help, although supporting Sheffield Wednesday probably deserves to sit in both categories. If you don’t follow football, they are a team that have caused many Wednesday fans anxious moments.

I don’t want to fix people, but I do want to share my wisdom which comes from lots of life experience. Thinking about it, people don’t need fixing, but sometimes they/we need guidance. The book is about recognising what pulls us in the wrong direction and finding more of the things that help us move forward.

Let’s reflect. If you had five hours every week completely to yourself, what would you create?

Tips Accpeted

It was a walk around St Katherine’s Dock last week that piqued my interest in narrowboats, so I found a few YouTube videos and hit play. After talking to my uncle about my interest, he recommended Canal Boat Diaries, featuring Robbie Cumming.

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Robbie has been exploring Britain’s river and canal network for over a decade, and one of the things that struck me about Robbie’s story was how content he seems with life on the vast water network of England. Come to think of it, everyone I see living on the waterways seems to have a smile on their face.

I won’t hide the fact that I’ve surfed a few sites selling narrowboats, and the more I watched, the more I disappeared down another rabbit hole. Britain’s canal network has some extraordinary stories of its own.

Here are a few canal facts.

Key Canal Extremes and Sights

• Longest canal: The Grand Union Canal stretches 137 miles between London and Birmingham.

• Oldest working canal: The Fossdyke Navigation dates back around 1,900 years to the Roman occupation around AD 120.

• Longest tunnel: The Standedge Tunnel on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal runs for 3.5 miles and is the deepest and highest in Britain.

• Highest aqueduct: The Pontcysyllte Aqueduct carries the Llangollen Canal 126 feet above the River Dee in Wales.

• Longest lock flight: Tardebigge on the Worcester & Birmingham Canal has 30 locks lifting boats 220 feet.

Canals seem to operate at a completely different pace to the world around them, and that fascinates me.

That sense of contentmentis is a very different perspective to what I see on the faces of London’s commuters. Most people look like they’re hanging on to an existence rather than enjoying life, and that got me thinking.

How many people stare out of train windows, dreaming of a different life to the one they live 9 to 5?

As I start work on my new book, I wonder what it would be like to work and write on board a narrowboat. I imagine waking up in the morning somewhere magical like Henley-on-Thames, or somewhere near Oxford or Ross-on-Wye. Imagine the morning mist, ducks swimming next to your boat and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. If you lived on a narrowboat, what would you write about? Your diaries, a thriller or a murder mystery?

You’d have the freedom to create your own adventure, just as Robbie does on the canals.

I mention this because we can become trapped in our minds. Trapped in the belief that something is impossible, that we’re not good enough. I’ve had that thought more than a few times.

Just think about the pioneers in the world. Thomas Cook, the Wright brothers and the Apollo astronauts. Anxiety, excitement and the need for adventure must have played a part in their journeys. They all had a willingness to step outside their comfort zones.

I’ve written several times about the fear of hitting publish, and many years ago my anxiety spiked as I hovered above the publish button. It’s no longer a problem, just as sailing over the horizon won’t mean you’ll fall off the edge of the earth.

It’s never too late to start your journey. It’s never too late to take up a new hobby, learn a new skill or go to university. Be brave and back yourself, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

Next month, Diary of a Writer will be coming from the hills of Andalusia, southern Spain.

Life is short, but there’s always time to change direction, discover something new and find a new adventure. For many of us, the hardest part is untying the rope.

If you could untie the rope tomorrow, where would you go?

This year, almost by accident, I stopped trying to choose. It has taught me more about finding readers than any piece of advice ever did.

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Finishing the first book

I have been quieter than usual on Diary of a Writer, and there is a straightforward reason. Most of my writing time has gone into finishing my first book.

It has taken longer than I imagined, although I suspect that is true of most first books. There is always another paragraph to improve, another fact to check, another chapter that suddenly feels unfinished. The work continues, and I am getting closer.

But while the book has taken the bulk of my attention, something else has been happening quietly alongside it. I have started giving space to the interests I had swept under the carpet for far too long.

The first of them was sport.

Rediscovering football through The World Cup

The World Cup has now reached the semi-final stage, and I have enjoyed every minute of it.

Football has always been a major part of my life, but for a long time I did very little with that interest as a writer. That changed when I launched The 1867 Post on Substack, writing under the name Woz, the nickname most people have known me by for years. The publication is dedicated to Sheffield Wednesday, my football club.

When I launched it there were no subscribers, no established audience and no guarantee that anyone would read it. Three months later it has grown to almost 250 subscribers.

That might not sound like much next to the biggest newsletters on Substack. But starting from zero changes your perspective. Every subscriber has chosen to receive something I have written. Every new reader is a small piece of progress.

The 1867 Post has shown me what happens when you write for a clearly defined audience. Sheffield Wednesday is a niche subject. It will never appeal to everyone, and it does not need to. It only needs to connect with the people who care about the club, its history and its future.

Trying to write for everyone often results in writing that connects with nobody.

The advice I could never take

The advice to find a niche always sounded like a warning to me. It seemed to say that a curious mind was a liability, and that the price of an audience was giving up most of what made me want to write in the first place.

I am beginning to see it differently now. A niche is not necessarily a cage. It can be a doorway.

But the part the advice missed is this. A niche does not mean choosing one subject and abandoning the rest. It means giving each subject a space where it is not competing with everything else you care about.

Sheffield Wednesday does not have to share a page with the Second World War. Farming does not have to justify itself next to a personal essay. Each interest gets its own room, and readers get to choose which rooms they want to enter.

The niche provides the structure. The stories provide the variety.

From football to farming

The same lesson has started to pull me somewhere unexpected.

Recently I wrote a piece about farming during the Second World War for my Project World War 2 newsletter. It was a fascinating subject. British farmers faced enormous pressure to increase domestic food production as imported supplies were threatened by the war at sea. Land was brought back into use, machinery became increasingly important, and the Women’s Land Army played a vital role in keeping the country fed.

I have also prepared a farming article for The ESG Nerd, looking at the subject through the lens of sustainability.

That second piece got me thinking.

I work as a sustainability consultant. I write regularly. I am interested in history, the environment, business and the way industries adapt to change.

Why not write about farming?

Farming is about more than food

Farming sits at the centre of many of the biggest issues facing Britain.

Food security, climate change, biodiversity, rural communities, land management, technology, trade, the future of the countryside. It touches all of it. It affects everyone, even though most of us rarely think about what happens before food reaches the supermarket shelf.

Like millions of others, I have watched every series of Clarkson’s Farm.

Love him or loathe him, Jeremy Clarkson has helped put British farming back on the map. The programme has shown the uncertainty, the bureaucracy, the financial pressure and the sheer amount of work involved in running a farm. It has also introduced farming to people who might never have watched a traditional agricultural programme or opened a farming publication.

That renewed interest is an opportunity for writers too.

There is room to explain the challenges facing farmers in plain English. There is room to explore new ideas, practical solutions and the relationship between farming and sustainability. There is room to celebrate the people who produce our food and manage so much of the British landscape.

The British Farming Brief

Which brings me to another possible publication.

The British Farming Brief might soon make an appearance on Substack.

The idea is still taking shape, but the aim would be simple: to examine the issues affecting British farming and make them accessible to readers beyond the industry itself.

I am not a farmer, and I would never pretend to speak on behalf of the farming community. My role would be to listen, research, ask questions and explain what I find.

In some ways, that is what writers do best. We become curious about a subject. We follow the questions. We speak to people who know more than we do. Then we try to turn what we have learned into something useful.

Following curiosity

Finishing my book remains the priority. But these side projects have reminded me why I started writing in the first place.

Writing lets us explore. One week I can be examining an event from the Second World War. The next I can be writing about Sheffield Wednesday, sustainability or the future of British farming.

On the surface those subjects look unrelated. In reality they are held together by the same thing: curiosity, and a desire to understand how people respond to pressure, change and uncertainty.

So perhaps the lesson was never about choosing a single subject and defending it for the rest of your writing life. Perhaps it is simpler than that. When an interest keeps pulling at you, give it a room of its own and see who walks in.

The 1867 Post showed me what happens when you write for a specific audience. The next experiment may involve fields rather than football pitches.

Watch this space.

This Easter, we headed to Mid Wales. Not the postcard Wales of Snowdonia or the Gower Peninsula. The quieter, less visited middle of the country, the rolling green hills east of Newtown, the Cambrian Mountains, the kind of countryside that doesn’t advertise itself.

We stayed at Trewythen, a lodge about twenty miles east of Newtown, with views across the Welsh hills that stopped you mid-sentence. The kind of views that make you put your phone down, which is either a sign of genuine beauty or a worrying reflection on modern life. Possibly both.

Star Gazing in Wales

The Elan Valley is one of the darkest places in Wales. Designated as a Dark Sky Discovery Site, it sits far enough from any significant urban light pollution to offer views of the night sky that most people in Britain have simply never seen.

On a clear night, the Milky Way is visible with the naked eye, stars appear in their thousands, and the silence is total. If you’re planning a trip and you can time even one evening around a clear forecast, it’s worth building your itinerary around it.

I was lucky enough to be able to set up my camera and shoot some stars. My first night of shooting was a bust, I just couldn't get my FujiFilm X-T50 setting right, and I ended up taking the picture with my iPhone (picture one). The bright star is actually the planet Uranus.

I shot images two and three the following night after working through my Fuji set up.

The Elan Valley

One of the first places we visited was the Elan Valley and if you haven’t been, put it on the list. Built between 1893 and 1904 to supply Birmingham with fresh water, the valley’s dams are one of Victorian engineering’s quieter masterpieces. Six reservoirs stretch across the Cambrian Mountains, their stone faced dams standing with an almost Gothic grandeur. When water cascades over them, as it does after any decent rainfall, the effect is genuinely dramatic. This isn’t the manufactured drama of a theme park. It’s the real thing.

Footpath Map

I download the Footpath Map. It’s an excellent tool for planning walks. It has load of features and overlays. It also uses OS maps. The route below is a 10Km (6 Mile) walk around the edge of Garreg Ddu reservoir.

The Rheidol Railway

We also rode the Vale of Rheidol Railway. Narrow gauge, steam powered, and one of those experiences that earns the word timeless without trying. Opened in 1902, it’s the last narrow gauge steam railway that was once run by British Rail, and the journey from Aberystwyth up into the hills feels like passing through a version of Wales that tourism rarely reaches. We bought first class tickets. At £50 per person return, they weren’t cheap. They were worth every penny.

This is a must-do experience.

Hafren Forest and the Source of the Severn

Hafren Forest was another highlight and one of those places that catches you off guard. It sits high in the Cambrian Mountains, close to where the River Severn begins its life as little more than a moorland trickle before making its 220 mile journey to the Bristol Channel. Standing in those trees, knowing that the water beneath your feet will eventually reach the sea, is quietly extraordinary.

Less extraordinary was the evidence of the people who had been there before us. Litter. Mess left behind by irresponsible dog owners. It’s a familiar story and not one worth dwelling on here. But it does make you wonder what it would take for people to look after the places they claim to love.

Lake Vyrnwy and the Road Out

The stunning Vyrnwy dam rounded out the Welsh leg of the trip. Another piece of Victorian water engineering, another reservoir framed by forested hills. Mid Wales, it turns out, has a particular relationship with water, and with the ambition of the engineers who reshaped its valleys.

Getting between these places was part of the experience in itself. The roads in Mid Wales are largely in excellent condition, the journeys often sixty minutes or more between stops, and almost every mile offered another view worth pulling over for. The rolling countryside felt uninterrupted, as though the modern world had agreed, just temporarily, to stay out of the way.

The drive home was the same. We took a road we hadn’t used before, out of the hills and back towards England, and there was something in that. The route was unfamiliar, but the feeling of being in the countryside wasn’t. There was a sense of a trip winding down while still delivering something new.

The Clarkson Stop

Our destination on the way back was Jeremy Clarkson’s pub near RAF Brize Norton in West Oxfordshire. I’m not going to turn this into a review. It doesn’t need one from me. What I will say is that it was worth the detour, and that the whole enterprise is a genuinely compelling example of what it looks like when someone uses their platform to champion British farming rather than just talk about it.

What A Road Trip to Wales Added Up To

Wales has some of the most striking scenery you’ll find anywhere. I’ve been before, but this was my favourite visit and, without much hesitation, my favourite road trip to date.

Not because everything went perfectly or because every meal was exceptional or because the weather cooperated. But because of what a road trip at its best actually gives you, unhurried time, unexpected beauty, and just enough distance from ordinary life to remember what you actually think about it. It also helps if you’re with the right person.

Tips Accpeted

I am no fool, and yesterday I acted on instinct.

Look after your mental wellbeing, first and foremost.

My actions,

Walking away from a job I was headhunted for.

2026 has been a strange year in terms of figuring out who I am, and what I want to do. I’ve written about needing to find purpose, and last week I started in a new role. It was a role written for me. One that would give me an opportunity to shape an organisation.

But

There are external factors at play. Family matters often get pushed to the side.

Not this time.

Yesterday I took the decision to resign and to focus on things closer to home.

The Lesson Learned

The lesson learned is that having a purpose is important, but not at the expense of mental wellbeing.

I visited my family at the weekend and two of them told me that I did not look happy. That’s not good. Sometimes we need to hear the uncomfortable truths to understand what is going on with ourselves.

If you haven't got the headspace, find the root causes. In business it's called Risk Treatment. Personally, it's called common sense.

What’s Next?

For now, being there for my partner and my family. Being there for myself.

In a way I feel sad that I left my post so suddenly. Your gut instincts are just that. The red flags, your state of mind generally don’t lie.

I have plenty to look forward to. My novel is with the publisher and version two of the Unprepared Unaware book cover has landed. It still needs work, but it’s a Work-in-Progress.

I went out for my first run of the year this morning. I felt ok, but I am not ashamed to say that my fitness has fallen by the wayside. All the walking steps in the world can’t prepare you for a good old-fashioned run. The good news is that I will go out again tomorrow.

A Visit To The Elan Valley

My partner is taking me to the Elan Valley this weekend. I am super excited about it. Our lodge overlooks some of Britain’s most beautiful landscapes. We’ll have plenty of time to reset, connect with nature and I will have my trusty camera with me. I am hoping to take some awesome photographs of the stars.

The cherry on the cake will be a trip to the Farmer’s Dog, Jeremy Clarkson’s pub on the way home. I really like Jeremy. I have Top Gear, The Grand Tour or Clarkson’s Farm on repeat. He’s South Yorkshire born, just like me. Jeremy is also supporting British farming. Despite what people might think, he is a farmer, and I believe he’s doing a lot for British farming.

So, it’s been a year of trials and tribulations, but it’s a case of onwards and upwards.

Listen to your instincts.

They’re often right.

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Not relief, exactly. Not the clean, uncomplicated satisfaction you imagined. Something more like a door opening onto a longer corridor. You finish one thing and find yourself standing at the beginning of something else. Something you couldn’t quite see until you were ready for it.

That’s where I am now.

A few weeks ago, I sent my first book manuscript to my publisher. I won’t pretend that was easy. It took longer than I expected to get there, not in terms of the writing, but in terms of the belief that it was worth sending at all. That the work was real enough, and now I am looking forward to reading the published book.

Sending the manuscript changed something. The confidence that came from that single act, from letting the work leave my hands and trusting that it could stand on its own, opened up a space I hadn’t expected. A clarity about what I wanted to do next.

It’s a book I’m writing not for myself, or not only for myself. It’s a book written to serve the public.

It’s called One in 7.

One in 7: A Mental Health Statistic I Can’t Ignore

There is a statistic I keep coming back to.

One in seven people in the United Kingdom is currently living with a mental health condition. Not one in seven at some point in their lives. Right now. Today. As you read this.

That is not a small number. That is not a niche concern or a fringe experience or a problem that happens to other kinds of people in other kinds of lives. One in seven is your street. Your office. Your family. Your circle of friends, whether they’ve said anything about it or not.

I’ve been sitting with that number for a long time. Turning it over. Trying to understand what it means, not just as a statistic, but as a fact of life in this country. Why so many? Why still? Why, after years of campaigns and conversations and ribbon-wearing and awareness-raising, does the number stay stubbornly, heartbreakingly the same?

Those questions are what led me here.

Where The One-7 Book Comes From

It doesn’t come from nowhere. It doesn’t come from reading a report and deciding to write about it from a careful, objective distance. It comes from the inside.

My own experience of mental ill health didn’t arrive all at once. There was no single moment I can point to, no clear before and after. It was slower than that, and quieter, and in some ways harder to name. It accumulated. Over years. The way water finds its way through stone, not dramatically, not all at once, but persistently, until one day you notice the damage has been done.

I know what it is to carry something you haven’t got the words for yet. I know what it is to watch someone you love struggle and feel the helplessness of that. I know what it is to live inside a country that says, constantly, that it takes mental health seriously, and then watches its people wait months for support that may or may not come.

I’ve been intellectually obsessed with this subject for years. But the obsession is personal before it’s intellectual. It always was.

What The One-7 Book Is

One in 7 is the book I’ve been circling for a long time.

It is about the state of mental health in the United Kingdom. The scale of it. The silence that still surrounds it, despite everything we tell ourselves about how far we’ve come. The gap between what we say as a society and what we actually do. The human cost of that gap, counted not in headlines but in lives and years and relationships and potential, quietly lost.

I’m not going to tell you everything about the book here. It’s early. The manuscript is still forming. But I wanted to introduce it now, honestly, because I think the when of a thing matters as much as the what.

I’m not writing about this from the other side. I’m writing about it from inside the question.

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Who This Book Is For

This book is written for three kinds of people, and I suspect most readers will recognise themselves in at least one of them.

It’s for the people who know exactly what I’m talking about. Who have lived it, slowly or suddenly, quietly or in crisis. Who have felt the particular loneliness of trying to explain something that doesn’t show on the outside.

It’s for the people who love someone who does. Who have stood close to this and not known what to do with their hands.

And it’s for everyone who senses that something is wrong in this country, at scale, and hasn’t quite found the language for it yet.

One in seven people. That’s who this is for.

If the System Exists, Why Are We Still Struggling?

The doubters will say we have flyers. Support networks. Helplines. Medication. Awareness campaigns. A whole vocabulary now, where once there was only silence.

And they’re right. All of that exists.

So here is the question I keep coming back to. If all of that exists, why are one in seven of us still struggling? Why, according to a 2024 poll, do more than one in seven UK adults say their mental health is currently either bad or the worst it has ever been? Why is the number not going down?

Here is one answer, sitting quietly in the data. Approximately one in eight adults with a mental health problem are currently receiving treatment. One in seven struggling. One in eight receiving help.

That gap, between the scale of the problem and the reach of the response, is what this book is about.

Please Follow the Journey

I’ll be sharing updates on One in 7 here as the book develops. The research. The questions I can’t stop asking. The moments where the writing gets close to something true. The harder parts too.

If you want to follow the journey, this is the place to do it.

Subscribe to Diary of a Writer. And if this post reached you through someone else, welcome. There’s more where this came from.

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Source: Mind UK, mental health facts and statistics. https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/mental-health-facts-and-statistics/

Yes, I finally launched my publication journey. In less than two months, my novel will be on the shelves, and that still feels strange to write.

This Q&A post is for everyone setting out on their first book publishing journey. I am sure there are plenty of posts on this subject, but this story is my version. I can tell you that it hasn’t always been easy.

It has taken years to reach this point, and even last week I was still in two minds about whether to go ahead.

That sentence feels strange to write.

The road has not been smooth. There were moments when the story felt alive and urgent, and moments when it felt like a burden I had carried for too long.

But somewhere in all that uncertainty, I realised something important. If I kept waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect confidence, or the perfect version of myself, the book might never leave the drawer. That looked like a reality.

What made you start writing?

That is a good question.

I started blogging in 2013 while recovering from depression. At first, I wrote about sport, Sheffield Wednesday in particular. There is the link to depression, perhaps (ha ha).

I read column in one of the newspapers one day. I could not believe what I was reading. It was utter nonsense. Best of all, it was about the very club I supported. So it was a topic I knew about.

Looking back, that was the prompt.

Up until that point, I never believed I could write a blog, let alone a novel. Yet here I am, standing on the doorstep of something I am proud of.

How should you begin your writing journey?

If you are starting out, or even thinking about starting out, just write.

Please, just start writing.

You do not need Scrivener or any other clever app to begin. I started with a character and a rough idea, then followed the story where it wanted to go. I did not storyboard. I wrote.

It may sound odd, but the story began to take shape as I worked. I wrote about a character who worried a lot. She worried about the future of her country. As I kept going, my subconscious seemed to join in. Ideas began to surface. Scenes appeared. Possibilities opened up.

That is one of the best things about writing fiction. You are in charge. Your mind is free.

You can reshape the story as often as you like. You can move scenes, cut characters, change direction, and discover things you did not know were there.

I once drafted a scene on the train one evening that never made it into the book, but it still mattered. It taught me something about the world I was building.

Let your mind wander.

Having a vivid imagination helps, but the real point is this. It feels good to build something from scratch.

This is not even my first novel. Guy Lewis: 51 Degrees North is still sitting in the cloud, waiting for its moment. Guy also features prominently in Unaware, Unprepared.

💡Prompt: If you have an idea, create the environment and write about the character, the place, or the time they find themselves in.

There is a genre out there for everyone.

How did I appoint my publisher?

Cost and the path of least resistance. It really was that simple.

That said, due diligence mattered. I wanted to understand the publishing house properly before making a decision. Their reviews were strong, and so far the experience has been relaxed, professional and reassuring. We have had three meetings, and each one has made the process feel more real and more manageable.

There is more to follow on this part of the journey.

How am I going to promote the book?

This is the bit that makes me wince slightly.

I enjoy public speaking, but promotion does not come naturally to me. Still, a book does not promote itself. It needs a voice behind it, and that voice might as well be honest.

I am currently working with Eric and Emily on a three month marketing plan, and part of that will involve speaking more directly to my Substack audience. I had a fairly miserable time on TikTok recently, so I am more interested in thoughtful promotion than noisy promotion.

Some of you will be excellent marketers. Social media, Google, and a dedicated website may become your allies. Some of you may also have a strong circle of friends and supporters who can help spread the word.

All of that matters.

But I also think readers respond to sincerity. Why did you write the book? Why now? Why does it matter to you? That is where promotion becomes more human.

Writing this feels like fun. It’s a backstory to the main event.

What advice would I give to an aspiring author?

Start before you feel ready and have confidene in yourself. I

If the gremlins get loud, drown them out with positive thoughts. Talk to friends and family about your idea. I have had lots of support.

Substack is also your friend. This is a friendly neigbourhood afterall.

Most people imagine writers are full of certainty. I was not. Plenty of writers are ordinary people who kept going. If you wait until you feel completely confident, you may wait forever. Write anyway.

Also, learn to separate writing from validation. The first job is to do the work. The second is to improve it. The third is to find the people who may care about it. Those are different stages, and confusing them can destroy momentum.

Most of all, remember this. Finishing matters.

A messy finished draft has more value than a perfect unwritten idea.

And perhaps that is the real lesson in all of this. Books are not built from confidence alone. They are built from persistence, doubt, stubbornness, imagination, and the decision to keep going when it would be easier to stop.

That is where I have found myself.

Not at the end of the journey, but at the point where years of private work are about to become public. That feels exciting. It feels exposing. And it feels overdue.

At last, I feel like my publication name matches who I am.

Thank you for visiting Diary of a Writer.

Over to You

What would you want to know about writing or publishing if you were starting your first book today?

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JW

Over the last few weeks I have been putting the finishing touches to my second novel while also learning more about NLP. It has been a genuine road of discovery. At times exciting. At times frustrating. Often both in the same afternoon.

I also spent some time experimenting with educational videos on TikTok. That was an education in itself. It did not take long to realise the platform is flooded with nonsense, shaky facts, recycled advice and enough clickbait to sink a small fishing boat. For a while I wondered whether I had wasted too much time and energy trying to make it work.

But after sitting with it, I came to a different conclusion.

Experimenting is not wasted effort. It is how you find things out. You do not know what you do not know until you have lived through it, tested it, and seen what holds up in the real world. Sometimes the lesson is not that something failed. It is that something clarified what matters.

Stick with Substack! That’s my philosophy! 🎉

A conversation with my life coach helped bring that into focus. It narrowed my interests down to one clear thread: I am at my best when I am creating. Stories. Ideas. Covers. Concepts. Words. I like making things. That is where I feel most engaged. That is where I feel useful. And that sense of engagement and purpose matters more to me than chasing the latest noisy platform trend.

That is part of the reason I am so excited about Judged By A Cover.

Judged By A Cover is a creative experiment built around imaginary books, striking covers, and original short stories. The idea is simple. Start with a cover that suggests a world, a mood, or a mystery, then write the story that might live inside it. Some will lean thriller. Some espionage. Some adventure. All of them begin with curiosity.

It feels playful, but it also feels honest. It brings together the things I seem to keep circling back to creativity, storytelling, experimentation, and the freedom to make something from almost nothing.

Maybe that is the real lesson from the past few weeks. Not every path is meant to become a long road. Some are simply there to show you where you actually want to go.

Finding the Reward

And right now, for me, that points back to creative work.

That’s the reward.

What have you tried recently that looked like a detour at first, but turned out to show you something important?

No grand exit. No dramatic LinkedIn monologue. Just a decision.

Since then, I have kept the rhythm. Train into London. Desk by 8am. A free collaboration space with a coffee bar and a quiet hum of other people building things. It costs nothing, yet it has given me structure, energy and momentum.

Routine matters. Even when you work for yourself.

Growth in the Quiet Corners

What have I actually been doing?

Reading. Slowly. Properly.

I am working through NLP at Work by Sue Knight. It is not a hype book. It is about language, perception and how we shape our internal world. The #senses principle rings true. The quality of our words determines the quality of our influence. Change the language and you change the outcome.

I have also been building.

What began as a simple idea around mental health has evolved. It has become less about content and more about contribution. Less about posts and more about people.

I experimented. Open blogs. Substack. Different formats. Different tones. Some worked. Some fell flat. That is part of the apprenticeship of independence.

What surprised me most is this: clarity often arrives after movement, not before it.

From Noise to Contribution

The world is noisy. News cycles. Notifications. Opinions delivered at volume.

But noise is not the enemy.

Noise is raw material.

If you can filter it, shape it and respond with something useful, you are not overwhelmed by the world. You are contributing to it.

That is where The Practical Wellbeing Collective emerged. Not as a product. Not as a funnel. But as a small, deliberate space where people can think clearly, stabilise their mental fitness and make better decisions.

It is built around simple principles:

• Mental clarity before performance

• Structure before urgency

• Contribution before ego

There are a limited number of free seats available at the moment. Not as a gimmick. Simply because small groups create trust, and trust creates honest conversations.

If you want to build quietly, think clearly and contribute meaningfully, you can explore it here:
https://www.patreon.com/c/practicalwellbeingcollective

Six weeks in, I do not have all the answers.

But I do have momentum.

And momentum, when directed well, becomes purpose.

If you stepped away from your current path tomorrow, what routine would you build to replace it?

I hope this message finds you well. This is a first for me, so please let me know what you think of this format.

Keep writing.

Woz