1. How I came to write this book
Hello! … -ello! … -llo … -o ………-o ……..
Is there anyone out there? -there … -ere … -ere … -ere …………..
This is my first blog post ever, and what a weird sensation this is—sending my words out into cyberspace, not knowing if anyone’s reading it.
But if you are reading this blog, you may know that
I Seem To Have Written a Book.
So, come on in, sit yourself down, I’ll make us a nice cuppa tea and I’ll tell you the whole story…… Thanks so much for joining me. And thanks for listening. I’ll post every Tuesday and Friday.
My book “GOOD CHOICE” will be released about November 2015, so my blog is not about the book so much, but primarily about the vulnerable time of waiting in the empty space, not knowing what will happen. After all, my book could become anything on the scale between the J.K. Rowling of self-help books, and the one that sold twenty-five copies (and three of those were to my Mum).
These initial blog posts were based on my journal entries written over a couple of warm summer months starting early February 2015, right after I’d submitted my manuscript. You will mainly read about my inner world—all the internal thought processes and personal growth that I went through along the way. If you’ve ever tormented yourself with self-doubts, then come on in and join the club!
However, as my journal entries unfolded, I found I was also writing a little about a grieving process I was going through at the time, as well as my newly found commitment to my mindfulness/meditation practice. It was all connected.
Reinvention, Grief and Meditation—you get all three in one!
How did I come to write this book in the first place? Well, it all started about twenty-four years ago. I was in the midst of a painful and traumatic marriage crisis. With the cracking open of my shell that I thought was still protecting me, insights were coming to me thick and fast. I had to drop what I was doing at all hours of the day and night to write poetry. I’d never written a poem in my life, except for some creative writing exercises at school.
When the marriage ended, I received free therapy by being compelled to write again—not poems this time, but a fantasy story that seemed to summarize all I had learned, but in an abstract form. Again I was stopped in my tracks at all hours of the day and night to write this. It just poured out of me. It was as if the story wrote me! It was a soul’s story up to the age of five.
Yes, you read that right. I know this sounds like a very short book! Some of it was loosely based on my own story, and some on other lives I had observed or imagined. I typed it up neatly on my typewriter as a gift to myself. I then hid it away right up on the top shelf of my wardrobe. I remember feeling, ‘Yes, that’s exactly how it felt.’ I didn’t look at it again.