When I was twelve years old, I knew I wanted to be a writer. I believe many of us harbor such dreams when we are young. The dream to be an artist, a writer, a filmmaker; when we are young we have such sparkly dreams.
When I was twelve, I began writing this book. It was a mix of Harry Potter and The Secret Garden, (very original, I know.) My book had no title, it had no plot, just an idea; a girl who doesn’t know she is a princess goes to a secret school where princesses learn magic. Cute, right?
Well I found that after writing two pages, my little brain had no clue where to go. It felt too difficult to realize my dream of writing a book, and I decided that writing a book just wasn’t for me; so my first book concluded at page two. In my twelve year old mind, writing a book was for magical people like Rick Riordan or Suzanne Collins; real writers with the real intangible magical power of storytelling. So, I forgot my dream of being a writer altogether, and tried to grow out of it.
As I grew up, I lived in stories. From fantasy to literary fiction to classics to romance, I was absorbed in the world of stories, and I liked it that way. I decided I was destined to live in stories, rather than create them. Since writing books proved too difficult at a young age, I figured short stories and poetry could be my game; and for a year or two in my teenage and early adult years, I did those things. I enjoyed them. I tried to get better at writing, and perhaps I did. Slowly. When the time for University came, I of course, wrote many essays. Some were pretty decent, some were absolutely abhorrent, but what is one to do when they are expected to pop out a couple thousand words every other week?
Once University ended, I began to engulf myself in all the books I hadn’t had the time to read while immersed in my studies. I finally read Tolkein’s The Lord of The Rings, which absolutely changed my life. I began to study fantasy, and found myself right back in the place I was when I was twelve years old. I want to write a fantasy book, I thought.
The thought was daunting. For one, I had never written a book. I had no English degree, and I had absolutely no idea where to begin. So I did what all good writers do, I got over my nerves and put pen to paper.
You might be thinking that it’s not as simple as putting pen to paper, and you would be correct. My first idea was clunky, overdone, and tacky, if I do say so myself. I looked at my idea, a Narnia inspired hidden world full of magical creatures of all variety; then I decided, I am not C.S. Lewis, and I am not going to write another Narnia. I sat with my clunky idea, and decided to pick one element of the story to focus in on, and landed on mermaids.
The creeping little voice of my twelve year old self echoed in the background. Writing a book is too hard, you don’t have the intelligence, you don’t have the stamina, you don’t have the dedication. My twelve year old self whispered these things back to me as I pondered the herculean task I had given myself, but this time, things were different. This time, I had grown, learnt, read many books and studied them. I was no longer twelve, I was twenty four; and my desire to create this story overtook my fear. I silenced my twelve year old self, because while she is wise in her own ways, she is but a twelve year old girl, and I don’t always have to listen to her.
So I began.
Writing that first draft was some of the most fun I’ve had in my life. I invented a world for my story to take place in, I created characters that I love, I put together a plot that tugged at my heartstrings; and I wrote incessantly. In those first draft days, I used to wake up, eat breakfast, make a huge coffee, and sit in the public library, writing and writing until I could not write any longer. It was perfect.
A few months later, I finished the first draft. Though it was messy and unpolished, I had done what twelve year old me could have never imagined: I actually wrote a book.
Over the next months I began to review the draft, realized it was a mess, and began to research how to edit a novel. I completed a second draft, then a third.
You might be reading this thinking, okay, I don’t care what you did, that’s your book. What does this have to do with my potential to write one? I’ll tell you. Writing this book has taught me more about myself than any other endeavour in life. Writing this book has healed me, because now, I have the confidence to realize my creative ideas without fear of failure; without fear of being seen. And I want that for every creative person who has ever been too scared to follow their ideas, I want you to silence your twelve year old self and get over the fear.
Now, do I have a finished book? No! I’m still going. I’m on the fourth draft right now, and I finally see my project becoming what I want it to be. As I’m sure all of the women in my writing group would agree, beginning is the easiest part, but finishing a book, now that is the true herculean task. But we all know the world herculean for a reason. Hercules defied the odds. He was fearless. He was brave. He did not give up, and I don’t plan on giving up either. Writing this book has given me the strength to say that.
People have asked me, Don’t you think publishing a book is going to be hard? Don’t you know most authors don’t make it big? Don’t you think you should have a backup plan, something more realistic? And for the first time in my life, I do not care. I am going to write this book, because it is what I am meant to do. I do not care if people see my dreams and disapprove. I do not care if people think these are unrealistic, lofty, pretentious dreams; because they are my dreams, all my own.
I hope if you’ve ever wished to write a book, or a movie, or anything at all, that you think twice when you hear that little twelve year old voice in your head. I hope you can look past the whispers that say What if you fail? What if people think your creation is stupid? What if they think it’s bad? Because those people who would look down on you don’t know your dream, and you do not have to make them understand. When it comes to your dreams, you only have to honour yourself and your creativity.
So you should write that book. You should make those paintings. You should work on that screenplay. You should reach out to those people you see online doing the things that you dream of doing, because once you silence your fear, you have the world to gain. A world of happiness, creativity, whimsy, fun, and people who have dreams just like yours. Say goodbye to your fear, and write that book, it just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.
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