My Writing Journey...

Writing is a tool. Writing is an art. Writing is expression. Writing is a passion. These are all phrases I've grown up hearing throughout life. They're all true, of course. You can't say that writing isn't any of these. But it's also so much more.

I grew up as a child used to being indoors due to ill health. Outdoors just wasn't my thing. Well, it couldn't really be back then. I loved movies and books and colouring in. Then I found writing. This is hard...I didn't realise talking about yourself can be a difficult thing to do. But it's got to be done. I want to share my writing experience with you. How I grew up loving the art form. How I used it as therapy to get me through some really dark moments in my life.

I started with a secret diary. As young girls, I think most of us do. I was scared to pour my heart and soul into it at first, I was worried about who would be sneaking around and reading my innermost thoughts. But then I grew less worried; my innermost thoughts revolved around wishing I had lots of friends and talking about a book I had read. I didn't think it necessary to hide those thoughts.

At the age of seven, after my father's death, things changed. There were some drastic changes made to my life, including moving to another country and being pulled away from everything I'd ever known. We lost touch with family members who had tried to help my mother and prevent her spiral into the depths of madness and grief, which was a bit of a cause for concern considering she had the three children to look after. Things weren't looking too good. But I still wrote. What I wrote about what had changed. I would talk about missing out on school trips because my mother never had the money any more for them, I would write about the crushing loneliness I felt because we kept switching schools every so often and I never had the chance to settle down and make friends.

But my secret diaries remained. I still wrote about everything. But it also changed. My personal talk turned to fiction. I began to make up stories of ideal worlds and happy lives. I began to write about fantastic adventures and trials and tribulations. I hungered for my words to look more amazing, different. I had this knowledge inside that if I didn't write, I wouldn't have anything to keep me sane. Did you ever feel that? That if you stopped writing, you'd stop existing?

High school. College. All a blur to me. The temporary friendships; I say temporary because I don't think I kept in touch with anyone. Then social media struck. A college friend was adamant about creating a Facebook profile for me. And a Bebo one. Do you remember Bebo? I feel so old just thinking about it. But it gave me more places to sort of write. And I could connect with people better on social media than in real life.

It's a sad state of affairs when you think about it. I had to turn online for those connections I couldn't make and keep in real life. But again, my writing remained constant. Even after leaving college and diving into the world of work, I still wrote. There were 'support sessions' for people who would be looking for work where you could spend the whole day looking for jobs and applying. I spent my time writing and working on my first fantasy adventure in there. I stopped when I got 15 chapters in. I intend now to pick up my pen and continue it. One of the men who worked in there realised I had been writing this story and had asked to read it. He was fascinated by the idea of me writing and asked why I don't try it for a living. He even tried to title it for me. But his idea what "Why does it work? Because it does..." I suppose he tried.

Can you imagine? Me? A writer? I couldn't. Not until about a year later when I realised that's what I was. Despite never having published anything, despite never having anyone other than that one person read my work, I was a writer. I found solace and comfort in something that grew from being a small form of therapy and developed into more. I don't have any other creative talents. I lack the grace to do dancing. I lack the careful and steady hands for art, such as drawing or painting. But words. Words were something I worked with daily and words were something I used from the moment I could speak and write. They were and are my everything.

My writing has changed. It always changes. It depends on the day, on my mood, on the situation. But it always changes. I like to think that I grow as I write. That I'm learning to hone my craft. I don't speak of it often to people, but when I do they notice how much I do love sharing it with other people.

I'm at the stage now where I'm relatively settled in my life. I'm happy for once. I have goals I'm working towards. A steady job as a dental nurse. I volunteer regularly and I write almost every day. It doesn't matter whether it's a sentence or a page. I write. I'm not too concerned about making money from my writing yet. I'm too focused on enjoying the fact that I do this.

My secret diary still exists. But I hold it close to my heart. It's something that started a cycle of events that led me here, to Vocal Media, shouting out my joy for the love of writing.

I have a story published in an anthology, the proceeds of which went towards a charity. I've published work online and continue to do so. I'm in the process of learning how to create and market e-books, I'm in the process of writing my first novel, which is taking its merry time but I'm enjoy the creative process of procrastination.

Ah procrastination! I never thought such a thing existed until I first picked up a pen to write. I'd find myself doing everything but writing. I could reorganise and change everything in my home but writing? I've just got to finish this task first...then that one...but wait, there's more...

It doesn't scare me as much any more, not writing. I have other things now that keep me steady, happy and secure in myself. I've become a regular at my gym, six nights a week with two personal training sessions per week. I've taken up running and long walks in the park whenever I feel like going on a digital detox. I still pick up a book every day and read at least a couple of pages. Add to that my full-time job and looking after my mother and I've a full schedule. And writing? While I sometimes skip the odd day in favour of getting tasks done, I'll still get back to it with the same gusto as going to the gym. It's a good workout for my mind. It's fun to do. I enjoy the prospect of picking up my pen, only to wonder which words will find themselves written on the page.

As you can tell, I'm a total pantser. I'm still learning all the terms that come with being a writer but it's something I've found has given me a community of like-minded individuals to share my work with and talk about writing with. I have Twitter to thank for that. Some of the friendships I've made with fellow writers is unreal sometimes.

In regards to my life, while I've now made steady friendships and have a relationship and have also reconnected with those family members who feel they had to abandon us, I still hold them a certain distance from my heart. There's this wall they have to get through first. They need to know me in order to get there. And one thing they should know about is my love of writing.

I'll tell you a story: my aunt recently came to visit and I told her of my short story I'd had published in the anthology, of which the theme was 'love and relationships'. It was a collection of short stories written by Muslim women, sharing their fictional ideals and stories and thoughts about love and relationships, it being a relatively taboo subject within the culture. But many women had been willing to break free of the norm to share their thoughts. Brave beautiful women with stories to tell. I gave my aunt my copy of the book and asked if she would like to read my story and give me feedback. I dedicated the story to two of my nieces, the two female leads in the story were named after them. My aunt had taken the book for a day, read the back of the book and came back to me and threw it in my face, telling me she didn't want to 'read my pornography or know about my innermost desires'. I had written a simple story about anti-love, about divorce. Something she could relate to, seeing as she had been divorced. But she had refused to read it and that sparked in me an anger, a rage, a motivation to get more of my words out there for the world to see. I don't write erotica or anything remotely like it. Even that short story was so far from what I normally write.

I'm a fantasy fiction or horror kind of gal. Give me a good old tale involving knights, demons and magic and I'm there. Love? No thank you. In my world, it doesn't matter how well I do or how much dedication I show to my art. There is always going to be someone who will come along and try to tread on my dreams. But just because they exist it doesn't mean they will win. Right? Who are we? Writers! What are we? Thick-skinned devils is what we are! We may cry at criticism but we need it too.

So my writing journey is growing steadily. I've a Wordpress blog and I also write on Medium and on Vocal Media. I have some old stories on Wattpad which I'm planning on bringing to Vocal Media and Medium soon. I love words. I also write quite a bit on my Instagram posts. You can see the development of my writing on there too. I talk about writing workshops I attended, creative endeavours and even the struggles. For all the wins, I want people to see my losses too. I'm human, as are we all and we must acknowledge that with growth comes a little failure and a LOT of change.

We need to strive for change, not shy away from it. And we also need to acknowledge how writing is everything. Therapy. Expression. Art. Work. Life. Don't you feel it too? When you're typing away or writing with pen and paper? The sheer joy when you buy a new notepad but then realise it's too pretty to write in so you buy a basic and ugly one and think "I'll just write in this one instead and save the pretty one for something special."

Keep writing. It's beautiful and there's so much to be had from just the activity of it. There's so much to feel and to experience. You can share so much of yourself and still, keep it all in.

If you liked this piece, then please share, heart and by all means leave a tip. We can only support one another in our endeavours to create. Love you humans!