I’m Karen (K.L. Crear) - author, over-sharer, and walking cautionary tale. Think: a sweary teenager trapped in the body of a menopausal woman who can’t sneeze without risking a wardrobe malfunction. You’re welcome.

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Once upon a time, I worked in banking, the Civil Service, and property management , or as I like to call it, The Beige Trilogy. I spent decades being respectable (ish), responsible (occasionally), and quietly losing the will to live. Then one day I found myself broke, baffled, and built entirely out of biscuit crumbs and unresolved trauma. So I did what any sensible woman would do - I wrote it all down and flogged it in paperback.

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I’ve battled cancer twice, and my coping strategy was to laugh at wildly inappropriate moments and shout “F*ck off!” at inspirational quotes. Spoiler: it worked. My sense of humour is deeply questionable, but it’s kept me just about sane through grief, illness, love, lies, and the time I gave myself food poisoning with a dodgy prawn ring from Iceland.

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After years of procrastination (and one too many vinos), I finally swapped Pinot for a pen. Now I write jaw-dropping memoirs and hilarious women’s fiction about women who’ve had enough, snapped slightly, and are thriving in spite of it all, usually with a glass in hand, some top mates, and a solid alibi.

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My hobbies include eating anything wrapped in pastry, shouting at the Real Housewives (“She’s definitely had something done -  she’s melting!”), and threatening to adopt an axolotl because they look so absurdly cheerful. I once turned down hugging a sloth in Mexico, it dangles upside down, pees on itself, and honestly felt like a warning from the future.

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I live in a sleepy Northern town with my long-suffering husband (he’s partially deaf, which helps) and our cat Pickle, who looks permanently disgusted with our life choices and the ongoing Dreamies rationing.

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A portion of every book sale goes to Women’s Aid, Great Ormond Street, the Epilepsy Society, and Macmillan, because I know what it’s like to need help. The world’s a shitshow, but we can all make a little difference in our own way.

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