Lily Anna

British writer, blogger and book enthusiast

Short Biography

At age 11 Lily Anna wrote a list of professions she wanted to have when she was older. Author was always on the top of her list.

Now approaching 20 she spends most hours in the day writing, and the other hours reading. She believes her prime writing time is any time after midnight (which she also thinks is the best time to eat toast). She has more started stories than she can count on one hand and aspires to write at least two drafts a year.

Besides writing she loves cats, the beach (if there’s no one on it) and countryside settings.

Author 101

We’ve interviewed each writer and below are their answers.

Everything. My best source of inspiration is the world around me. I find myself most inspired going on walks whether that’s through forests or on deserted beaches. It always gets my mind going, even if the scenery is nothing to do with the setting I am in.

Since I was about 11 years old. My first story was about a boarding school. Well lets just say it wasn’t good; luckily I have improved since then.

I would like to write in every genre, but I usually end up writing books which fit the genre’s of crime, mystery and thriller. I will occasionally incorporate other elements like supernatural or sci-fi. They’re mostly all for the YA age group now.

That’s a hard question because I don’t really have a ‘method’. They just sort of come to me. Usually my ideas start with one character conversation or scene in my head. and I go from there building the ideas around it and what the plot could turn out to be.


deserving hatred and contempt.


famous or well known, typically for some bad quality or deed.


extremely unpleasant.

I’d like to say every single author inspires me in different ways (whether that’s good or bad.) My most recent favourite authors are Teri Terry, Laura Tisdall, Francesca Zappia and C.G.Drews.

We all have to start somewhere. If you have an idea, run with it and just keep writing. There’s time to learn and improve, and it’s all about just getting those words down to start with. It doesn’t matter how bad you think your first story is, it’s important to keep trying. I promise you, from there it is a lot easier to keep going and going.

Um, I haven’t really thought about this, but my family often say I look like a cat when I’m laying on my sofa.

Lily Anna's Work


Maggie Morton is good at pretending. Pretending she can forget the past. Pretending she didn’t make a life-changing mistake. Pretending her identity isn’t faked. 

She hides behind her cover as a normal 18-year-old Sixth Form student, believing she can protect herself that way. If she can hold on to some normality, no one can hurt her again. 

Or so she thinks, until, a figure from her past comes back to haunt her. Her front is threatened. Try as she might to remain strong, the new person she has become begins to fall from her grasp. She’s forced to realise you can’t hide behind lies forever. Maybe if you try to, it hurts you more in the end. 

Maybe it’s time she faces the truth; the real truth of what happened and who she really is. 



Pretending is just like lying. Fake the expressions, the words, the tone of your voice, and they’ll believe you. That’s the first fundamental of lying. And sometimes if you lie to yourself enough, you might just believe it too.


Felicity saw something she shouldn’t have. A dead girl in the bathroom at school. Not just any girl, Robin Cross, the head girl. Since that night all she’s had in her head is images of a creature ravaging her body. But Robin was just stabbed excessively, right?

Felicity’s life is shattering as she struggles to find the truth and anyone who will believe her. Even the corridors start to not feel safe anymore.

*Being edited*


It took me a few seconds to understand what was in front of me as the automatic lights blinked on. Blood. Pooled around the mutilated body on the floor. Mangled guts spilling out of ripped clothing. A face, half destroyed, one pale blue eye rolled back so that it was looking at me. A leg torn straight off, flung against the wall so that the blood had splattered all over it. It was all red. Red. Red. RED. 

It was like my idea of hell was shoved into one room. 

I should have screamed, but instead a strangled gasping noise came out of me as I clutched my chest.  My back hit the door, my heart beat furious and tears leaking from my eyes. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real! There is no way this was real. 

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