Writing comes easy for some and others need to work at it. Carefully placing each word on the page until a story forms.
Some people hit the ground running never doubting that being an author was the career for them. Others, the route there is longer, full of twists and turns, but life brings them where they need to be pen in hand.
I wanted to write, but I didn’t know what. Never finding the genre that suited me or getting stuck in the antiquated notions of what it meant to be a writer. Creative non-fiction was the genre I thought was for me, ideas coming but never eventuating into anything beyond a few pages scrawled idea’s and rough plans. Plans and idea’s that got shelved away hoping to one day be resurrected and yet they weren’t – might still stay hidden.
Three kids later, writing once more called and yet it didn’t offer me any ideas beyond the need to put pen to paper. I returned to university deciding to learn Japanese and Chinese (not a good combo to learn at the same time.) and again the urge to write; the pleasure found from putting pen to paper showed itself – even writing essays became fun, where they once were hated. Rediscovered my love for Japanese culture and discovered the world of Boy’s Love, Yaoi. I was hooked. Words began to flow.
I dabbled in fan fiction first. Honing the way I write. Finding my voice, the style of writing that was me. Then I was creating my own characters; my own stories filling the pages of notebooks in a never ending unreadable scrawl. Yes, my handwriting is that bad, but I prefer to write my draft(s) by hand before taking to the keyboard.
Now begins the real journey. Believing in your own writing (and doubting it) is one thing, but to get published is another. A very scary and exciting venture, one I have already put in motion. Now the hardest part, waiting, hoping. Not that my hand or my mind remains idle. Words continue to flow and etch themselves onto paper as new characters formed, desperate to tell their stories.