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I'm still not exactly sure why I was so drawn to breakfast TV, given I've never really been naturally good with early mornings. Perhaps it was the colours, maybe the bright sofa? I suspect it was the thrill of live television, the brilliance of the presenters, and the excitement of reporters dotted all around the world. I remember as a teenager setting my alarm to watch TV-am go on air. Later, when it was GMTV, I was still fascinated. I watched in awe and thought: "One day I want to be like you." I just had to find a way to enter that world.

Years later, aged 23, I did. The way was making endless teas, coffees and hot chocolates. Photocopying, printing scripts, 13-hour overnight shifts, ten-hour day shifts. I'd written to the Managing Editor about my dream of working at GMTV. A small amount of experience on BBC Kilroy was enough to get me a job as a Programme Assistant - translate that to runner, translate that to starting at the very bottom as a general dogsbody. I still remember walking into that newsroom. The runner's desk sat at one end of the newsroom and all around were, in my mind at least, cool people. Cool people making a cool show in a really cool office overlooking the Thames.

I, however, did not feel cool. I felt hot, bright red, blotchy and starstruck and I did all I could not to stare. I remember seeing Fiona Phillips walk up the stairs, then Eamonn Holmes, Penny Smith, Anne Davies, Helen Morton, Ross Kelly - and then, surely not? Here came Lorraine. Every morning at 5.59am I'd stand at the back of the gallery as they counted down. At the very last second, everyone came together - as though they were flying an aircraft - it was liftoff and anything could - and did - happen for the next three-and-a-half hours. Every morning, I looked at those reporters and made a silent wish to the TV Gods: "Please let that be me." Then one day, something happened. Eamonn Holmes walked past the runner's desk late at night after presenting a sports show. "You look like you're having fun, Miss Ellie," he said. "It's the best job in the world," I blurted out.

He sat down next to me and showed such generosity after a long day that I'll never forget. "Tell me, what is it you love so much?"

"Everything." I couldn't stop talking. "The gallery, the studio, the correspondents, the staff. One day, I want to be just like all of you." A few days later, I found myself in the Director of Programme's office. Peter McHugh was one of the most talented and wonderful people I've ever met. I was terrified.

I was asked if I wanted to "have a go" in the studio. The crew were kind and patient as I took around ten minutes to cover a cardboard box in felt and read the autocue. It was awful. When Peter asked to see me again, I prepared for the worst.

But he told me: "I didn't see anything that made me think you can't do it. Go away and become a journalist - I don't care how, just do it." So, I left for journalism college, hoping one day I'd be back. What I didn't expect was that I'd fall in love.

I fell in love with regional news. I arrived in Bristol, then HTV News and was hooked. Local stories, communities, the West Country, real-life evidence of love and hope. Live TV every day. A gallery, a studio and reporters dotted around. I fell in love with my colleagues and one in particular - a fellow junior journalist, Robert Murphy, who would later become my husband.

I kept in touch with my GMTV bosses, telling them how much I was loving what I did. Then one day the news desk phone rang at HTV. "Can you come in? They want to see you." I returned to London and sat in front of the bosses. "Scotland Correspondent. Would you like to do it?"

I think I fell off the chair.

Of course I'd do it. This was the dream. In a few seconds I worked out if my new boyfriend really was the one, we'd find a way. I was 28 and I hoped we'd have a long future ahead. But I cried as I left the West Country, because this was no longer a dream.

It was real-life and the leap was huge. I'd only presented two live reports, so I wasn't just out of my depth - I was in a whole new world, with a whole country to cover. And I was terrible. Just terrible.

My boyfriend would call and I'd be unable to speak. Eventually he'd hear a sob. "It's early days," my mum and dad said. But deep down there was a whisper - something was wrong. This wasn't a dream. This was a nightmare.

Just after New Year, I was alone and asleep in my flat after my friends and boyfriend had left after celebrating Hogmanay.

The phone rang at one in the morning. There was a prison riot a few hours away. If I left now, I'd make it. Also, could I pick up some toilet rolls on the way so I could hold one up on air? I tried to muster enthusiasm, but it was hard.

"What's the matter, Ellie?" the news editor asked. "You don't sound like yourself."

Later as I stood outside the prison in the dark, with the toilet roll, it dawned on me. She was right. I wasn't myself because this wasn't me.

It was an incredible job - but the truth was, and is, I love my home. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my work and I love working hard, but I like the day to end too. And I lacked the fierce competition you need. But what would I do? This was the dream.

I think the TV Gods were still watching because soon after I saw an advert for BBC Look East in Cambridge and I was lucky enough to get it. The minute I walked into that newsroom, I was back in love.

I'm still grateful to the people who opened the door for me to come home. Three years later, I was about to get married and then back to ITV and now ITV West Country. I was doing a job I loved and I was home.

Twenty years later I'm still there, and I love my job more than ever. The studio is just as exciting. I still feel like we're taking off as we count down to on-air and 5.59 (now pm) is still the most exciting time of day. Best of all, I get to go home to my husband and two sons every night.

Now, at 52 the lessons I learned on live TV in that year in Scotland at GMTV I still use every day. I love the intimacy of smaller stories. I've also since realised another teenage dream - to become a women's fiction author, something I do alongside my work at ITV.

I've written six novels about women who sometimes get it wrong, but who discover by listening to their heart that there's always another way.

My stories are based on the power of small communities, love and hope I see in my ITV work every day. I truly believe we can all live a dream that's right for us; it's our own intuition that will create the path.

But we must find a way of not being afraid of that whisper in our heart that's telling us with love, this chapter isn't right.

• What Really Happened to Me? by Ellie Barker (Vinci Books, £9.99) is out now