So, today I’ve decided to write about something a bit more personal – that being my writing itself.
I’m actually extremely anxious and shy when it comes to sharing my writing with people; which is ridiculous considering my dream is to write for a living.
I guess that stems from a lack of self-confidence, and from stumbling over the uneven path that life decided to set me on.
That’s why I chose to re-open this blog (I say re-open because I did originally start it back in 2016, but never had the self-belief to press publish). I wanted to gradually let the world see who I was… a girl with a unwavering passion for writing stories, and an obsession to be creative and turn my negative life experiences into something much more positive (like wild daisies growing through fertiliser. Sometimes you come out the other side of the poop even stronger, brighter, and full of seeds for the future).
Only recently have I begun to show people this part of my life.
I completed a draft of my novel – the first novel that I thought might just be worthy of sharing with someone – and I sent it to an editor for assessment, then stared at my inbox for weeks, awaiting a reply.
The wait was agony, but the feedback was morphine.
There were strong parts and weaker parts, praises and critiques; but most importantly, it translated into something along these lines: this is good, keep going.
That small bit of encouragement brought me so much happiness. For the first time in ten years of writing, I let someone see inside the madness of my mind, and they liked it. It was dizzying. I couldn’t eat or sleep.
I think that’s how you know you’re supposed to be a writer.
It is so gruelling. So lonely. So complicated. I write every spare second I get – on my lunch breaks, my days off, my holidays. I spend all this time in a fictional world, making it real, embodying characters that I would love and loathe to meet, without any real promise of reward. Without any assurance that it will all be worth it one day.
Sure, I can dream!
That’s what life is for. But at the end of the day, it all comes down to this: I am a writer. I love writing with all of my heart and soul. I would choose to have a published book-baby, over an actual baby, I’m that serious. And hopefully, one day, I will get to share my books with the world.