I did the thing! I’ve spoken about it before, but I’m still buzzing about it, so I got all artsy, didn’t I? Thought I’d make a short film about it all.
It’s all about the trials and tribulations of writing. I guess any writer might relate
. . . .
In 2017 I wrote my first million words.
That’s 9 novels, 1 novella, 2 feature length scripts and a handful of shorts. That’s ten years of my life.
I started on this terrible tiny laptop, sitting up in bed in the early hours, making imaginary friends. So much has changed since then. I’ve been rejected and rejected, and accepted too. I’d like to think I’ve improved along the way. I’m more jaded now, more guarded, more realistic.
But one thing has never changed.
There’s this feeling, in my chest, when I find the exact right word. A lightness in my limbs when I make a stubborn sentence sing. Even when my eyes are tired and I’m flailing wildly between the spectrum of certainty and giving up completely – between “this is amazing” to “what-the-hell-was-I thinking” – the simple joy of it never goes away.
The peaks and valleys of this journey are extreme. They’ve tripped my younger self up more times than I can count. But I always seem to get back up in the end. And that’s the difference between failing and succeeding, isn’t it? The perpetual “one last shot.”
So I do the work.
It’s what I’ve always done.
It’s the thing I always hope might save me.
It never does.
But maybe it gets me closer. Each sentence, each chapter, each “THE END” I write. It gets me closer to that impossible shining perfection in my head.
So this is my love letter to my dreams. Anything that can make me doubt so much, love so much, celebrate and commiserate so much is worth holding on to. It’s worthy of a life’s work. It’s gold dust in the air, dancing on my fingertips, forever out of reach.
It’s eternal hope. One day. One day maybe.
So here’s to my next million words.