The problem with me

For as long as I can remember, well, maybe not that long, but for many years now, there has been one thing that I have always wanted to do.  This one thing has never changed and in fact, the more that time goes by, the more determined I am to make it happen.  So, for the life of me, I cannot understand why I don't just sit down and sort it out.  My dad has said some wise things in his time, but one of the wisest of them all, though he cannot take credit for coining the actual phrase although I do think of him every time I think it, is: 'If you want something bad enough, make it happen.'   And I totally agree with that.  I know I have said these same words to many people.  With the added words of 'If you want something bad enough, go out and get it' and 'Only you can make your dreams come true' and (as if I haven't got my point quite across yet) 'You are in control of your own life, take control of it and go for it' etc.

A few years back, we had an administrator that used to work for us who had aspirations of working with Orang-utans.  She had a passion for them and one day I said to her 'Trish, you are still young, there is nothing stopping you for doing just that, go study, go do what you need to do and live your dream.  Because before you know it, you are 40, married and the chance is forever gone'.  And that is just what she did.  She is now doing something she totally loves.  (although I believe her love went from those orange creatures to Gorilla's or something) but still, she is passionate about this and doing something she really enjoys.  I wish somebody had said that to me when I was 20 years old.  Or, maybe someone did, but I just wasn't listening.

Anyway, tick tock the clock goes, and indeed, before I knew it, I was married and 40 and working as an Office Manager for a recruitment consultancy with 2 children who are both in their teens and my excuse now is, 'there never is any time'.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.  Is that really a decent excuse? No, I don't think so, I think I've been lying to myself, because I think I'm scared.  The problem with me is, I have delusions of grandeur. When I picture myself as a novelist, I picture me being someone everyone has heard of.  I don't mind saying (as ridiculous as it is) that I want to be as big as Stephen King.  I want to write a cult story like Stephanie Meyer.  Be as well read as Jodi Picoult. Neither of these writers may have impressed you much, but the point is, everyone has heard of them!  You might not be a fan of Twilight but the fact is, everyone knows what it is.  And as for Stephen King, who hasn't heard of him?  The list of successful novelists is huge and I want to be right up there with all of them.
So, the other day I had a serious think to myself.  I need to stop that.  Its not about writing the next best seller (although that would be nice) but its about seeing my work in print.  One thing I used to say years ago, is it would be nice to know, when I die there is something of me left behind.  And I know, I know, its easy to say 'well, you have your children left behind that is a part of you once you're gone' but that goes without saying and besides, so does millions of people.  What would be nice though, is for my children, and my children's children and so on, to pick up a book and see my name of the cover and to read it and to be proud of that.

I've had some of my work published, but its poetry, and not to belittle all the fellow poets of the world, to me, its not quite the same. It was too easy to submit poetry and to get a letter back saying it was going to be published in some poetry compilation, and never to hear anything about that again.  No, its not quite the same for me.  I never even bought the poetry compilation books they were published in.  That's my bad I guess.  But I am willing to bet, not one of you who is reading this blog will own any of those either.

So what is the problem then?  How badly do I want to write a novel? Oh My Goodness (censored that for you mom) More than you will ever know.  I'm following a few writers on twitter.  Brandon Ford, you might not realise it, but both you and Kimberly inspire me.  Especially you.  I do listen to the advise you give and I intend to apply it.  I'm not actually stalking either of you *sticks out tongue* even if your conversations on there amuse me sometimes. The fact is, you've done it, so there is no reason I cannot. Unless of course, I cannot write to save me life.  I don't believe that's true though.

So, enough of the procrastination.  Enough of the excuses.  Enough.  I'm blogging this now, so I'm essentially setting myself up for ridicule if I don't, but the motivation needs to be more than that and it is, its there, it really is.  I need to sit myself down and just make a start.  The story is in my head.  Its already there, I just need to start.  And like I have been advised, set myself a target of so many words per day and just begin.  I somehow think, once I do that, it will be a lot easier than I think, and I am hoping that I will be able to look back and ask myself why I was ever scared in the first place.

Here is hoping .....

I may not be the next Stephanie Meyer with a massive cult following who wrote a story loved by millions. Nor will I EVER be the next Stephen King.  I can only be me, and hope that I manage to get published and read by at least one person who will enjoy it.  Any more after that will only be a bonus.

Bx

Listening to Adele while I blog and having the best time - I could just keep typing forever.