It’s here. Actually here. Holding my own book, seeing my name on the spine. Northern Rift exists outside my laptop now. Published. Real.
Pressed ‘publish’ last week after months of editing between Foundation Programme classes at Abbey. No fanfare, just me in my dorm room at midnight, finger hovering over the button. Then done.
Need to thank some unexpected people. My economics professor at Abbey who said ‘treat your mystery like a balance sheet; everything must add up’. My accounting teacher who explained how auditors track discrepancies, which completely changed how my detective approaches evidence. Who knew Foundation Programme coursework would reshape a thriller?
Also that woman on the Moscow to Petersburg train last spring. We shared a compartment for three hours. She told me about losing a whole summer to illness, how September came and she couldn’t remember July at all. ‘Like someone stole it,’ she said. That conversation became Chapter Seven.
Already got my first review from someone I don’t know. They found themes I didn’t realise I’d put there. Strange feeling, watching something so personal become public. The missing day that haunted my protagonist for months now belongs to anyone who reads it. Cities that kept secrets in my head are keeping them for other people now.
Abbey College life continues. Business studies by day, but I’m already sketching the next story. The notebook’s filling up again. This is just the beginning.
Daria Ryzhikova Writer