All my life I have wanted to write a book. That was my childhood dream and it still is an ambition. It isn't a deeply burning one and if it never happens I doubt I'll lament on my deathbed but it would be nice to achieve this goal one day.
I used to want to write fiction. There are countless pages and word doc files where I have attempted to write stories all throughout my life but I have never finished them or when I have, I have not been very happy with the finished result. I'm not being arrogant here when I say I do think I have a pretty wild imagination sometimes. My imagination is as such that I can properly scare myself silly just walking down a dark road at night because I keep thinking vampires - yes vampires, forget potential rapists and thugs - are going to suddenly appear or when I pop to the loo that a zombie is going to wander in and start banging on the door crying for my brainz!!! At night when I lay in bed I fancy that the wind currents and shadows are ghosts and spirits and if I wake up to a humming noise in the dead of night then that is most certainly an invisible alien spaceship outside and definitely not the streetlights on the blink.
I think if I ever have children I'll be one nutty mummy with my stories. I do love stories. I love listening to people tell them and then I want to write them down (I often don't) so I don't forget them - which does happen eventually much to my annoyance. I'm terrible at relating them later and the idea of being a travelling storyteller did once cross my mind but I doubt my stage presence and strength of character is enough to have spectators hanging on my every word...as it is I have to fight with some friends to get a word in edge ways. My voice is too soft and doesn't command attention as I might wish it too. Add alcohol to the equation and my friends regularly joke that they know when I'm drunk as it suddenly becomes shrill and shriek-y like a banchee...Great.
But I've always been good at keeping a diary or in recent years - a blog. There are few rules to keeping a diary. It is personal so you can write how you want. You can go off on tangents, leave untied ends...a diary is not a work of art that needs to be tailored and edited. It is a collection of musings and thoughts...it is like the mathematical workings out on a page before you reach the answer...and sometimes you never reach the answer. It suits my wondering brain just fine. Even as I write these words I have no idea when I will draw a close to this entry. If I grow bored and fancy switching to another task I'll wrap things up rapido. If I'm feeling more thoughtful I'll work a little harder to shape the words into a nice general conclusion.
At the end of the day...I've stopped scrutinising the situation or putting too much importance on it. Sure, I am envious of friends and family who have written and had things published. But they have gone out of their way to make things happen and they have also been lucky with their connections. I have to ask myself why I haven't pushed myself more? I could have worked on the Uni magazine, I did do a stint at Marie Clare with ideas of being a journalist at one point and I worked in many a publishing house... I guess, when it all boils down, I never really fancied writing for someone else. I never fancied being dictated to about how and when I should write. It takes all the fun out of it.
So I write for me and me alone. I write because it clears my head, I write because it helps me to explore my thoughts and feelings - like that mathematical equation simile I just made. I write because I enjoy it, it makes me happy. It is my hobby and I like how it compliments my life. I will dare to call myself a writer even if I have no backlist of 'serious' work to support the claim.
I feel perhaps one day I may end up writing some sort of memoir / self-help book but if I ever do I think I will also have to approach it like a diary because I can't imagine myself sticking to some strict and rigorous plan...that would zap all the creativity and spontaneity out of the whole process for me and I'd surely hit a dead end brick wall...
Anyway...enough of me (going to go do something else now)...what about you? All you bloggers out there...why do you write? Hmm? I'd be interested to hear. xxx