I’m writing a book, and it’s based on my life. I am trying to find a way to put that, that won’t turn a reader off. Yes, I’m not an influencer or the world’s most exciting person. I haven’t travelled to every continent and worked my way up to classify myself a success. Despite the confused faces when asked what my book is about, I do believe I have something worthy to share.
I cried on the first page
I have an irrational fear of looking vulnerable. I tend to use sarcasm to conceal my feelings. I’ve always encouraged friends to visit a therapist yet penned all the reasons in the world as to why I’d be better off without.
I sometimes think I make myself sound too positive, as though I’m a chirpy bird singing to wake up Cinderella. When I started writing about some of the pain from my childhood, droplets of water circled my eyes.
All these little details started reappearing. It was like I had put my memory in a freezer box, and now the freezer has shut down and the past is melting back. In my family, everything has a logic. If you’re upset – you do this. If you feel down – you do that. There’s a ‘hush’ about my mental health, as though it was teenage angst and no longer worthy of a discussion.
I’ve removed all doubt
I’d be lying if I said, I don’t want people to buy my first e-book. I’d also be lying, if I said I’m expecting a high number of sales. This first attempt of writing a book is an experimental project, and it needs confidence. The minute I realised that this is for me, I stopped worrying about what others might think or how they will react.
I read that people are now desperate to become authors. Today, it’s not that difficult – depending on how well you wish to sell. Whether you go on to have the career of a best-seller or lean on the support of friends to buy a copy, the boost writing a book can give you is immeasurable.
It’s nothing like blogging
Blogging is a huge commitment and sacrifice on time, and it has completely changed me and inspired me to discuss experiences I once kept hidden. I knew when writing a book nevertheless, that I wanted to edit the script.
I don’t want my book to read as though I’ve collected blog posts. I’m trying to take a person on a journey that makes them laugh, relate, and then think a second more.
My practice run, was my two short stories on love. Both about me, and both two of the most personal pieces I have shared.
Here is the opening extract of my book:
3 small chairs and a sick bucket in the corner. The scenery of the white walls desperate for a slick of paint, felt grey in the bored hole for ill kids to either throw up, get better, or wait for their parents. I was used to waiting in the school’s medicine room alone. I found my excuses; often at lunch time when I didn’t know who to play with.
This familiar experience began at the beginning of my school years. Most of my classmates emulated Cinderella; blue eyes, silky-blonde hair and fair skin. If my shyness wasn’t enough to elude my classmates from considering me a friend, my differing features made me feel an unwanted visitor.
One girl declared, “blue eyes are the prettiest”, and all the other blue’s smiled and nodded. I was stood right next to them, my 5-year old self with bushy brows, dark locks, latte skin, and eyes too brown for a rainbow.
Have you considered writing a book before and if so, would you write fiction or non-fiction? I’d love to know about tips or experiences of people who have already published.