When I first told those close to me that I was writing a book, I had some funny looks and a lot of ‘Why? It’s not like you could ever be J K Rowling.’
Ahhh! Why? Why is that comparison always made? Why do people think that any writer would be so deluded to think that they could ever step up to J K’s success?
Anyway, I ignored said comments and wrote my first book.
‘When did you find the time to do that?’ they asked.
‘Oh, I got up at 5 every morning to write for a couple of hours before work,’ I’d say.
‘Are you mad?’ was the general reply.
They couldn’t understand how on earth, or more importantly, why on earth, I would do that. Why would I set my alarm for 4.30am just to write? I mean, I was never going to make money from it, was I?
To me, it’s simple. Those two hours when the house is sleeping and I sit cupping a mug of coffee at the laptop are bliss. My mind is focussed and the words flow freely.
‘You must be so tired,’ they say to me.
Bloody exhausted to be honest! I teach and I have three boys to raise. Even without writing I’d be worn out. But since realising a few years ago that writing was missing from my life, my fingers twitch to be on the laptop. I have to write something every day. Writing is a part of me and I need to do it, almost as much as I need to eat. Sounds daft I know, unless you’re a writer and you’ll understand. If I don’t write, I get fidgety and anxious. I start to panic. My brain starts bouncing around in a fizzing frenzy. I have to write to clear my head, to switch off from real life.
‘You could spend years writing and never get published,’ they said to me.
Yes, and I could spend years not writing and never get published. Yes, writing is hard work. Frustratingly and tear-inducing so at times. Some days it fills me with self-doubt and leaves me sobbing with my head in my hands. But it also excites me. When the words flow, my heart races, my fingers dance over the keyboard (well, more of a slow waltz as I’m not the fastest typist).
A good writing day leaves me filled with a happy calm. When success comes – whether it’s being placed in a writing competition, or someone commenting that they’ve enjoyed reading my blog or actually getting ‘that’ e-mail, I float around for days, an inane smile etched permanently on my face. I’m doing something I love and someone else thinks it’s pretty ok too – nothing compares to that feeling.
My dream, like every other writer, is to be able to write full-time. To have time to write all the stories that bubble and brew in my head. They say writing is lonely work, but other than when I’m with my boys, being alone with my words is when I’m at my happiest. Maybe that’s just me. I like being by myself. And how could I ever feel lonely when I have my imagination with me? And not forgetting twitter! I have ‘met’ so many amazing like-minded people through the twitter writing community.
So for those who asked why, this is the answer. This is why I write. I don’t mind being perpetually tired with dark circles under my eyes. I’ll put up with those horrible moments when I’m crippled with self-doubt. Because writing makes me happy. Writing gives me my equilibrium. When I’m at my laptop I forget about the stresses of every day life. I drift off to another world, another place and time. Because writing is me.
Hwyl am y tro x