Inside the Mind - Anthony McNally

I went to the Falklands War as a young man, carrying all the fear, pride, and uncertainty that come with being thrown into conflict long before you truly understand its cost. What I witnessed there stayed with me long after the fighting stopped. Eventually, I was diagnosed with PTSD — though at the time, I didn’t have the words, or the courage, to talk about the horrors I’d seen. A counsellor gave me a simple instruction: “Write down your thoughts and feelings.” It sounded almost trivial, but it became the turning point of my life. I picked up a notebook and began scribbling — raw memories, fragments of emotion, things I had buried for years. Those scribbles slowly took shape, and before I realised it, they became the foundation of my first book. Writing gave me a voice when I felt voiceless. It gave me a way to process the trauma, honour the men I served with, and make sense of the shadows that followed me home. I haven’t stopped writing since. What began as therapy became a passion, a purpose, and a way to connect with others who carry their own invisible wounds.

Right now, I’m deep into writing Book 3 of my sci‑fi series P‑23. This instalment pushes the story into darker, more complex territory. It follows an extra-terrestrial race that arrives on Earth uninvited, forcing humanity’s leaders into an impossible decision: to “Cull” millions of people to appease our new visitors, the Tarions. What begins as an occupation becomes a fragile alliance. Humans and Tarions eventually find themselves fighting side by side against a far more terrifying enemy — a ruthless alien species determined to wipe out every living thing on Earth. Book 3 explores the aftermath of that war: the cost of survival, the uneasy bonds forged in battle, and the question of whether humanity can ever rebuild after sacrificing so much. It’s a story about loyalty, fear, and the thin line between salvation and destruction.

I’ve always had a vivid imagination. Even as a kid, storytelling came naturally to me. At school, whenever I handed in a piece of creative writing, my English teacher would look at me suspiciously because he didn’t believe I’d actually written it. But I had — I simply loved disappearing into a story, building worlds in my head, and letting characters walk onto the page as if they already existed. That hasn’t changed. I still lose myself completely when I write, and that’s why characters come so easily to me. Many of my military characters carry pieces of my own experiences — the strengths, the scars, and the frailties, including PTSD. Writing them honestly allows me to explore the emotional truth of service, trauma, and resilience in a way that feels authentic both to me and to the readers who’ve lived through similar battles.

Now that I’m retired, I have the freedom to write whenever inspiration strikes — usually in between the usual household chores and taking my dog out for a good walk. I set myself a simple benchmark: once I sit down to write, I aim for at least an hour of focused work. Some days I go far beyond that, other days I just meet the hour, but the routine keeps me moving forward. I live in the North of England, where the weather is famously unpredictable and often downright miserable. That’s why I treasure the summer months. As soon as the sun appears, I take my notebook or laptop out into the garden and let the fresh air and quiet help shape the next chapter. There’s something about writing outdoors — surrounded by greenery, with the dog snoozing nearby — that makes the stories flow more naturally.

I often describe myself as an “accidental author.” Writing was never part of some grand career plan — it was a lifeline. I began putting words on paper because of my PTSD, not because I had ambitions of fame or fortune. In fact, I’ve never had any illusions about becoming wealthy from my books. I write because it helps me stay grounded, focused, and mentally healthy. What started as therapy became a passion. And one of the most rewarding parts of the journey has been hearing my stories brought to life by narrators. Listening to my books being read aloud — hearing the emotion, the tension, the humanity in the characters — is incredibly fulfilling. It reminds me how far I’ve come from those early days of simply trying to make sense of my own thoughts.

The writing itself has never been the hard part for me — that’s the part I love. The real challenges have come with producing the audiobooks. I’ve been let down more than once by narrators who missed deadlines, disappeared, or simply failed to deliver what they promised. I’ve had to dissolve contracts, start again from scratch, and go searching for new narrators when I should have been celebrating progress. It’s disheartening at times, especially when you pour so much of yourself into a story. But each setback has taught me something about patience, professionalism, and trusting my instincts. And when I do find the right narrator — someone who respects the work and brings the characters to life — it makes all the frustration worthwhile. Hearing my books performed the way they were meant to sound is still one of the most rewarding parts of the entire process.

No, really, I'm quite old-fashioned and began writing on typewriters and word processors.

My advice would be this: don’t get into writing because you think it’s a quick way to make money. If that’s your goal, you’ll almost certainly end up disappointed and give up before you’ve even found your voice. Writing is a long game — a craft, a habit, and sometimes a battle with yourself. Instead, try to make writing part of your daily or weekly routine, the same way you’d commit to going for a walk or heading to the gym. Show up consistently, even on the days when the words don’t come easily. That discipline is what turns ideas into chapters and chapters into books. And above all, write what you want to write. Don’t chase trends, don’t bend yourself to please strangers on the internet, and don’t let a handful of bad reviews knock you off course. Every writer gets them. They’re part of the journey, not the end of it. If you stay true to your voice and keep turning up, the rewards — creative, emotional, and personal — will come.

I know I should do more. I just use the usual social media channels. It is an area I need to work on.

Yes, see question two: The P-23 Series. Title to be revealed.