Barry Huggins author

They say that our passions are in the blood. We enter the world with them. They are as much a part of us as the predisposed colour of our eyes or size of our hands. We perform them regardless of our mood, our wellbeing or financial standing. They save us in our dark moments and enrich us in our lighter times and define our life in a way that would be difficult by any other means in the final summation of the end days.

For me, this passion is the written word. I had an idea that this might be the case when I was seven years old and reviewed my course books at the end of the term. My maths books and history books and most other books were ominously devoid of teacher comments, with the exception of liberal washes of red ink correcting my mistakes and offering constructive advice to apply myself with a little more verve.

But I was never disheartened because my English books were resplendent with gold stars. We were awarded a blue star for each essay of merit and after ten blue stars, we were awarded a gold one. And so I would wince at the red ink for a brief moment and then bathe in the glory of the gold stars and life was good; as long as I did not have to do numbers. But the universe was kind and conspiring to  relieve me of this problem, for in that very moment of time, there were scientifically gifted people who were destined to invent the pocket calculator in a few short years, just in time for when I would need one. Synchronicity was alive and thriving.

The last twenty years of my life have been devoted to writing and teaching in the media and broadcasting environment, specialising in the creative skills of writing, photography and multimedia. Of my seven print published nonfiction titles, four have been translated into seven languages.

One of my most recent works and first fiction title, the Evanescence of being, reflects another of my passions; the existence of the extraordinary in every day ordinary life.

During the early summer of 2014 I wrote A late monsoon, a short story and a perfect read for a balmy day under a shady tree.