Sunday March 8th, 2020
Happy International Women’s Day!
I had planned to write this post today, completely unaware of it falling on the same day as International Women’s Day – it was a happy surprise. Especially considering what has been going on in my life recently – currently looking for a job but to no avail. Also, wishing I could be a full-time author but needing to pay bills before then is getting pretty stressful.
I am lucky and blessed enough to be surrounded by such incredible and inspirational women. From my mum, to my sisters, to the women in my extended family both blood and married. I look to them for a sense of empowerment as often as I can.
I happen to also look towards some of the amazing heroines I’ve read about in all genres of books. Their stories have lived within me for years and years, drawing out in moments of dire need. I can never thank the beautiful authors who wrote them enough. It truly just propels me to do the same when it comes to my own writing. Which lead me to what I figured out yesterday, through an inner conflict battle about what my MC really means, what I really mean in writing about her and her story.
I discovered something eye-opening. Well, I always inadvertenly knew it but never really accepted it or let sink in enough to be okay with it.
Writing is not glamorous. At ALL!
It is not sitting behind a rich wooded desk, with sacred trinkets that release some form of good vibes, a piping hot cup of tea at the ready, and an endless amount of words flowing out, stringing along into perfect sentences punctuation and all. It’s not all the emotions coming out all at once without breaking a sweat, without a single drop of fear or worry. It’s not depth without trying.
For a long while, I knew the reality of what writing really is. I never let myself dwell too much on it because I always felt that my writing had to be perfect right away, or at the very least it had to have enough substance for intrigue. I believed I was talented or hold some semblance of it, but because I am such a perfectionist, I wanted everything perfect from the start. I looked at the finished product of some of my favourite authors’ works and felt mine had to resembled a small fraction of it to be good enough to show anyone. Even as a first draft.
Truth is, no one ever writes a first draft like that. Like ever. The way an author connects with the reader, through their story, is by the raw emotion imprinted between the words. And that does not come without digging deep into the parts of you that are hidden. That you’ve kept hidden for a while.
I, quickly, learned that dragging my feet to my desk to finish a story was not do to lack of motivation or inspiration or that I simply wasn’t a good writer as self-doubt sometimes imposes on me. I was – am – terrified of what demons might come out from looking at the aspects of my life that I desperately wanted to forget. I knew to truly tell this story, I have to look inward far beyond anything I ever have before. It would be a shit show. It would be hard and exhausting, but in order to convey who I am and what this story is… I have to be vulnerable in ways I never could be or let myself be before. As someone with anxiety and depression – this scares the absolute shit out of me.
It’s strong female authors that have taught me this. To find that speck of vulnerability to unleash a storm that will turn into the thing you are most proud of. It’s strong female authors that inspire me to get to where they are, where I wish to be one day.
If I can say or tell anyone reading this anything at all, it’s that your story deserves to be told, especially if you have the drive and passion to tell it. Dig deep within your self, your heart, and speak your truth. Tell your story through your ability to break down and piece yourself back together again. Your story can inspire someone else to tell theirs, or at the very least gain their own strength to be better creators, writers.
Progress: Draft 1
Word Count: I am currently sitting pretty on about 5k words. This is due to the fact, I wrote and rewrote the second chapter because so many varying ideas came to me that some things had to be established in the second chapter to be able to resurface later on.
Chapters Written: 2, and a half.
Short-term Goal: Get to 10k words by end of April – which by the looks of the progress I am making seems very doable!
In honour of my MC’s empowering story, here is another music score from my WIP’s playlist.
How is your writing journey going? How far along in your process are you?