Before I could physically write, I was already, in a sense, a writer.
I invented people, worlds, and situations. I daydreamed, and also “played games”, assigning roles to my brother and friends. I talked to myself, as well. Past tense…? Well, not entirely – because I’m a writer, and writers are weird. That’s my excuse, anyway.
When I was five or six, and able to go beyond the formation of individual sentences, I wrote my first stories.
I was that child who loved writing stories at school, so much that I wrote my own, out of choice.
I found Maths boring and difficult.
I have the co-ordination disorder dyspraxia – which, at the time, was undiagnosed – and was, therefore, useless at the so-called “fun” activities. This covered pretty much every sport, basically. Yes, that’s right – not a fan of PE.
I was bullied relentlessly, right through school, and struggled with depression and anxiety, from a very young age.
I never fitted in, and longed to, but if I had, then maybe I would have been happy but ordinary, and not a writer. It was the one thing that I was able to do better than average, and I focused on that.
I do have periods of writers’ block, for want of a better term.
I also have long reading slumps.
I don’t write every day. I would like to say that I do, but I don’t. That’s just the truth.
I currently have many health issues, physical and mental health.
I have also been let down many times, by people I thought I could rely upon – family members, who have been less than supportive, to put it mildly – and so-called “friends”, who have hurt me deeply.
Poetry, although not my original passion, has often helped me through.
I will probably write a post specifically about my poetry journey, at some point.
I do also have a novel that I’m working on, sporadically – an old project, which I revived in recent years.
I’m making slow progress, but getting there. It’s a project that means so much to me, more than I can express – and yet, I’m terrified of failure. Sometimes, the fear leaves me paralysed, and I don’t get anything done at all.
However, I believe in what I’m doing, with all my heart, and know that I have to finish my book.
I did finish another, and shelved the first draft, without revising, which I am okay with. I felt, and still do, that finishing was enough, in that instance. January 2021 note: The novel referred to in this post, entitled Distorted Perceptions, was published in 2020. See the post announcing the book’s publication.
This post was originally published on my previous blog, and I simply made a few minor adjustments.
Since then, I have developed more of an interest in blogging. I plan to focus much more on this aspect of my writing in 2018 – and do also hope to make more progress on my novel, than I have in previous years.
If you would like to know more about the themes and topics covered in my fiction, I would suggest reading a recent post of mine, concerning my approach to mental illness, alcoholism and drug addiction, in my work.
Also, my piece about writing dark fiction, may be of interest.
Writing is my life.
I’ve been in some dark places, and I truly believe that I wouldn’t be here without my fiction and poetry – and increasingly so, my blog.
Writing: My Legacy – another post that might be of interest