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What's is Spun Into Gold - The Secret Life of a Female Magician about?

I'm going to let reader and artist Paula Mould answer that. 

Honestly, I didn't know what to expect when I got it. Another autobiography? Huh. But holy noodles, it's almost impossible to put this book down. A book with twists and turns in it, magic in every chapter. I found hope and messages of encouragement as I go through my own journey. The author writes like she was born to be a writer. Every sentence enthralling, every chapter delicious. If you are looking for a true story about a life well lived, and signs that we are all so very much loved by the universe, then this is the book for you."


Why did you start to write it? 

Who is it for? 

From Spun Into Gold - The Secret Life of a Female Magician 



Big Magic

“It’s not fair, everyone else is out at the beach enjoying the summer but I have to stay in and practice,” I whined. “It’s so stupid, I make things appear then vanish then appear again. It’s so boring.” I was in the middle of a session with Matthew, my life-coach. 

Probably fed up with me moaning, Matthew asked innocently, “Romany, if you weren’t practicing magic, what would you rather be doing?”

And this is what I said: “I’d rather be writing. I’d like to get up in the morning and write. I’d like to write all day.”

This was odd because I’d never thought of that before.

“So what’s stopping you?” he asked.

“No one wants to read my writing. No one’s going to pay me for writing.”

“How do you know?”

I’ve said it before: careful what you wish for; the angels are always listening.

As the words left my lips, magic swirled into action, forming a perfect golden spiral. Those golden cogs of momentum began to grind and whir, just like they always do.

After our session, I biked to the market for some veg. Cycling past a book shop, I saw a brightly coloured book with the words BIG MAGIC on the front. I screeched to a stop. It called to me as if it had a Buy Me label on it. I didn’t even bother flicking through. I paid for it, dropped it in my panniers, bought some fruit and went home. I made coffee, opened the book and didn’t stop reading until I had gulped down the last page at a silly hour in the morning.

After a good chunk of sleep, I got up, made some coffee, got comfortable in my mother’s favourite antique Queen Anne chair, and started writing. 

And now here we are, you and me.