“Wait for Me” is the title of the first book I have ever completed. Like lots of people, for most of my life I have dreamt of writing a book. And now I have!
I say completed as that is the status of the book at the moment. I have got to the end. The story has been told. In many ways though, while I have completed this stage, the writing stage, it is really just the beginning of the next stage. I have now started editing the book with the help of my dear friend and fellow writer, Anita. She comes round to my house one evening a week and we sit together while I read out loud and she follows on my lap-top, making any necessary changes as we go. We are largely correcting spelling and grammar, re-wording unclear sentences, and correcting any inconsistencies.
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Yesterday the materials for my Creative Writing course arrived. I signed up for this through the Writers Bureau. I actually started this course once before, many years ago. It could have been as many as twenty, as my children were young at the time and they are in their thirties now. If it was that long ago, it says a lot for the quality of the course that it is still going after all these years. Another writer friend of mine told me that he has done it too, a few years ago, and that he was impressed.
So, I was really excited when the package arrived and I couldn’t wait to get started. I have read modules 1 and 2 already. The main thing that resonated with me was the importance of making writing a part of your daily routine and taking time out to write every single day, even if it’s only for 30 minutes or so. As the course recommends, I have started an analysis of how I spend my time each day for a week, to work out when I might be able to make time to write and what I might have to stop doing to create more time.
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On Sunday, a couple of days ago, I decided at last to try and make my living as a writer. It’s only taken me 46 years to make the decision.
All my life I have loved creative writing. At school my favourite subject was English Language, closely followed by English Literature. I relished each new homework assignment, racing home to get started. I would work with my dictionary by my side, looking up new words, or new meanings for old words and building them into my work.
Even then, I wanted a job that involved writing but the only one that my limited research came up with was that of journalist. I don’t remember being actively discouraged to pursue this ambition, but I was certainly not encouraged or supported in any way.
Continue reading “The Beginning”