For those of you not in the know, B. J. Barnes is not my real name (I really wish it was, it's a really cool name). So this is a short one to let you know where this little moniker comes from
A few years ago, there was a young woman (but really a girl) who had just finished university and also a long term relationship with a boy she had thought for a long time that she would end up with. Her best friend had just relocated to Melbourne, and she too had moved away from the town she had grown up in in order to fulfil her dreams in the big smoke. Everything was changing. Big times.
New Year's Eve was rolling around, and a plan was hatched. The girl would go to Melbourne for the very first time. Fun would be had.
A week long bender ensued, and on one of the evenings the girl met a delightful, and rather dishy, young English man. Big blue eyes, messy light brown hair, gorgeous posh accent. Kisses were stolen in stylish Melbourne bars and numbers were exchanged.
A few days later the girl was back in Sydney, and the English boy happened to be there at the same time. He came out to her home in the beautiful boondocks of Sydney. The situation was kind of awkward, and hardly earth shattering. It didn't result in any great revelation, and it took her another two years to finally move on from the King of Emotional Fuckwittery.
But the one, rather brilliant thing that did come of this ill-advised fling was the germ of an idea, and a pen name. You see, that boy's name was B. J. Barnes, and that girl asked permission to use this should she ever be a great (or even lack lustre) writer. And that is where it all began.
Every story needs a beginning,
B. J. Barnes
A few years ago, there was a young woman (but really a girl) who had just finished university and also a long term relationship with a boy she had thought for a long time that she would end up with. Her best friend had just relocated to Melbourne, and she too had moved away from the town she had grown up in in order to fulfil her dreams in the big smoke. Everything was changing. Big times.
New Year's Eve was rolling around, and a plan was hatched. The girl would go to Melbourne for the very first time. Fun would be had.
A week long bender ensued, and on one of the evenings the girl met a delightful, and rather dishy, young English man. Big blue eyes, messy light brown hair, gorgeous posh accent. Kisses were stolen in stylish Melbourne bars and numbers were exchanged.
A few days later the girl was back in Sydney, and the English boy happened to be there at the same time. He came out to her home in the beautiful boondocks of Sydney. The situation was kind of awkward, and hardly earth shattering. It didn't result in any great revelation, and it took her another two years to finally move on from the King of Emotional Fuckwittery.
But the one, rather brilliant thing that did come of this ill-advised fling was the germ of an idea, and a pen name. You see, that boy's name was B. J. Barnes, and that girl asked permission to use this should she ever be a great (or even lack lustre) writer. And that is where it all began.
Every story needs a beginning,
B. J. Barnes
