How to write a book:

Because clearly, I’m an expert. 

Obviously I have yet to drop my first novel, but this is still leagues closer than I could have anticipated to achieving my dream. 

I spent many years with stories just bouncing around my funny head, and often I’d even write some of them down. Vaguely, I thought I’d maybe get around to writing them, but in that imaginary future I was not only a productive and successful author, but an abundant one. 

Clearly a fantasy, but not at all impossible. 

Having actually gone through the process of writing a full story, proofreading, planning the publicity and publication, I can tell you: it’s a lot more work than it seems. 

The most rewarding stage so far, the most important thing for me: was finishing the story. I’m great at ideas, I have notebooks full of them; but fleshing one out to its entirety always seems to elude me. I’d get to the last few chapters, and just give up: it’s crap, abandon mission. All that hard work seems to have gone to waste. So having finally finished something that I can be proud of and have people read and (hopefully) enjoy is a massive accomplishment for me. Anything that happens next is, while still important, not going to determine my opinion on writing as a career. 

I say this because realistically, it is very unlikely that I will find great success in this endeavour. The most I can hope for is that it doesn’t disappear completely and that at least some people will read it. But I’m on the road, I’ve started the journey. My feet are moving in the right direction for where I want to be. 

Some advice that I would give to others thinking about doing something similar is to stop putting it off. My biggest obstacle was myself. When I finally put away my fear and anxieties and pushed myself to start writing, that’s when I knew I could, and will, do this. 

Of course, it wasn’t necessarily easy from then on: each time I planned to write some more, I still had to push myself. As much as I love writing, it felt like I was dragging the words out of myself like boulders up a steep hill. It was exhausting. And after a small amount of progress, I’d often call it a day. But little by little, the book grew. And so did my strength, my confidence, and my ability to write (again, I hope). 

This may or may not be helpful to anyone else, but it needed to be said. 

And the best things in one’s life, never come easy.