Times Three

TIMES THREE Maggie Shaw, on a day of total madness, decides to shave her head, right down to a shiny dome. Realising that her head will now be cold, and that she can’t wear hats all the time, she decides to buy a wig. Three wigs in fact. A blonde, a ginger wig, and a black one. When she tries them on in Wig Wam Bam, Wig Emporium, under the guidance of the owner, Miss Elvira, she notices that each one changes her features. She hardly recognises herself in the mirror. When she begins to wear the wigs, each one alters her character and personality. The blonde wig turns her into a flirty, sexy and a little promiscuous young woman. The ginger wig allows her to live her secret, wildest dream. She becomes a jazz singer, with enough talent to make her an overnight sensation. The black wig takes to the ‘dark side.’ Without knowing how, she falls in with a pagan religious sect. All of her three lives have their up side and their down side. Which one brings her to the very edge of disaster?

I have been writing seriously for six or seven years. Previous to that, I dabbled, or practiced, I suppose is a better description. For example, I wrote my autobiography over a period in excess of thirty years, on and off until I decided that enough was enough and did 'final rewrite' (for about the fourth time) at the start of the new century. The bug caught me, something somewhere clicked, and I haven't stopped since. I have written six novels in various genres, an adaption of a book written in 1854 about the Lancashire witches (a masterpiece.), and four short children's books which form a serial and another children's book of just short of 40,000 words. I will also mention that during this period I wrote two stage musicals (libretto and lyrics), three scripts for TV mini-series and numerous short stories. Regrettably all these were lost due to a computer problem. I wish I had the heart to rewrite them. This sudden burst of genius (?) is surprising when my early life is known. I left school with no qualifications, I even failed the 11-plus. I had then what I now believe was dyslexia. The teachers just thought I was stupid and treated me accordingly. I struggled to put three written words together and make sense. I am a good writer - you would expect me to say that, but I have a number of people who read for me with instructions to response honestly, which they do, knowing that false praise is of no use. They were all surprised to find that I am so accomplished.