So…I Did A Thing…

I did a thing

So…I did a thing…

I have mentioned before about my love of writing and my obsession with books, but over the Easter weekend, I took things one step further. I did a thing and now there is a book with my name on it. An actual, proper book with a front cover and everything! 

Being an author has always been a little bit of a dream for me. As a child, I imagined my favourite authors sitting in their beautiful libraries while the imagined worlds I held so dear dripped from their pens with ease. Now, I am cautiously joining their ranks and I realise that it is nothing like I imagined. There is a lot less effortless sophistication and an awful lot more caffeine and chocolate.

My first foray into the world of fiction is a short story called “Marigold” which follows a middle-aged woman as she is forced to face difficult issues from her past and is available in paperback and e-book format from Amazon. This 6,500 word effort took approximately eleventy-billion cups of tea and enough bars of dairy milk to build my very own cottage in the woods. 

I also don’t think I realised just how terrifying it would be to actually see my name in print that way. Holding the first proof copy in my hand, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to shout from the rooftops or hide in a cave. It is a completely different sensation compared to publishing a blog or article.

I don’t know if this is the same for other authors, but when I write I put a little bit of myself into each story. It might be that a character has the same colour eyes as me, the same favourite song or the same irrational hatred of mushrooms. It could be that a piece of furniture is the same as one that I own or that they move with the same mannerisms as someone that I know. Whatever it is, it is always there in my story and the thought both excites and terrifies me in equal measure.

The idea that people could now potentially choose to buy and read something that I have written is a concept that I can’t quite get my head around. The idea that they may read it and form an opinion on it, whether good or bad, is something that I try not to think about. It is impossible to please everyone and I am sure that some people will think that my writing is the worst piece of garbled nonsense they’ve ever had the misfortune to read. But, I love it and that’s what matters. 

I don’t know whether this will be the only book I ever write, or whether releasing Marigold on the world will unplug some sort of dam, releasing decades of pent up words. But I do know that I am glad I did it. Despite the fact that I don’t miraculously have a library with a wood burner and a wardrobe filled with beautiful clothes, it has been worth it. My dining table, dressing gown and sleeping lurcher will just have to do.

Whatever happens next, I can hold my hands up and say that I tried my absolute hardest and I was willing to put myself out there for the things I love. 

I’m glad I did a thing and  can’t wait to see what happens next.

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