Writing. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do but either didn’t believe I could or that I had the creativity ability for.
As a child I would write stories, fantasy, fairy tales, adventures, write poems, rhymes and limericks. I don’t know when it all stopped. I don’t think it was a sudden moment when it did, more likely a slow progression over time, as I read less and less. Less and less fiction I mean not non-fiction. My non fiction collection grew as I did more formal studies.
The older I got the more non-fiction I read, more technical, more scientific and more dry. I became great at writing reports. Reports that you wouldn’t choose to read for leisure.
My creative mind stopped being creative.
My creative muscle atrophied.
I held a belief that when we begin to transition to our more “serious” and “responsible” life as an adult, that fun and creative pursuits needed to diminish. Regardless of where that belief originated from it’s a belief that I held for over a decade or more. A belief that stopped me, paralysed me from even contemplating that it would be possible that “I” could be creative, that “I” could be an artist, that “I” could be a writer.
Because I stopped being creative I thought and convinced myself that I didn’t like creative or expressive writing and reading fiction. It was wasted time. Creative time was play time and play time is for children. I am an adult and I should be adulting!
Whilst some of my friends were avid readers and some writers, painters, drawers and creatives, I pursued a more traditional path of selecting a course at university that I would not only enjoy but a course that I would be able to make a living from that would be in reasonable demand and provide a good income. Psychology.
I enjoyed my life as a psychologist. Meeting, helping, caring and challenging those who come to see me for my psychological services. But as I challenged them and helped them gain clarity in their life pursuits, I was inadvertently exploring and discovering my own passions and ultimately what makes me happy and brings me joy.
I Am a Writer
It wasn’t a moment or a day that it happened. It was me trying different things over time and fortunately I have a very supportive and very encouraging husband who stood patiently by me while I explored my passions and interests.
And now I have finally found what soothes me and brings me deep joy. Pursing my desire to be more creative in my art and in my writing. Who would have thought?! My artistic journey began a few years ago, you can read all about that here, whereas my writing journey has only just started. I have lots I want to share and I`can feel latent ideas of stories manifesting within me wanting to be told. I’m not quiet there yet but I can feel them under my creative skin.
Nervously excited, not knowing what the outcome will be or where my writing will take me. I’m just purely excited to begin and proudly say “I am a writer!”
(Jeff Goins, writer says that you if you want to be a writer then you need to tell yourself that you are a writer everyday, tell everyone you are a writer and start writing).
What will I write about?
To be honest I don’t know. I can’t answer that right now.
I’ve had many suggestions, from writing my parents memoirs, to writing tales about my Teddy dog, to writing about travel and my sketchventures. I’ve dabbled and written a little on each of these areas already, you may have noticed. So perhaps I’ll continue in these areas and but add some short creative fictional stories for your entertainment and my practice.
Whatever it turns out to be, it’s a journey and a process that I will enjoy, a process that I will no doubt experience frustrations, an experience where I will doubt myself at times, a process that I will want to give up and stop! But I wont because the definition of commitment is doing something you say you’re going to do long after the excitement and feeling of wanting to do it has long gone.
So stay posted I will still be sketching because I absolutely love it but I will also be exploring, evolving and discovering myself as a writer.