For most of my remembered life, I have had a love for the written word. Books have been my treasured companions. Library’s terminals for flights of fancy, on vehicles of imagination to destinations of alternate worlds and realities. On scraps of paper I write ideas, sentences and sometimes whole paragraphs, then squirrel them away till the right time and set of circumstance would allow me to write.
Years fly past. Life is a roller coaster of amazing highs and blessings. The birth of three sons, five grand daughters, of wonderful friendships formed, nurtured and enjoyed, and the gift of travel to six of our world’s great continents. What joy and adventure I have had. This is balanced with life’s cruel lows of loss, untimely bereavement, sadness and struggle to survive the blows. Truly, what doesn’t kill you does make you stronger.
Then a catalyst. My rapidly approaching three score milestone birthday, provided an insight of clarity. It jolted me from procrastination. I realised the optimum time to write, to do anything, is NOW ! There is no need to wait for stars to align, for a benevolent zephyr wind or fairy trumpets to proclaim it the right time. The only time is now. It was a proverbial light bulb moment. The urge to write had become an itch that demanded to be scratched !
I knew I needed a writing space, place, but where and how ? Funds were limited, but with generous help from family and friends I acquired a 10ft x 8ft garden shed, the bones of my dream. Given with love, a few choice swear words, a sprinkle of frustrated tears, hours of effort and a smidgen of luck the garden shed was eventually coaxed and transformed into my writing retreat. Filled with my favourite books and treasures, a desk and chair, I now had somewhere to write. My writing journey began.
It was liberating, exhilarating and exciting. Sat in the corner of my garden, just one hundred feet from my back door, it should be so easy to access and write? Not so. I soon realised I needed armour to facilitate the walk from house to shed. The obstacles, a mountain of self-doubt, a persistent inability to turn my back on domestic chores, and an overdeveloped desire to please and help others, turned the one hundred paces into a Herculean quest. I knew I needed to become more disciplined and determined. I needed achievable goals. I decided to write for and enter a competition. My first attempt resulted in a second place win for a flash fiction story called “Final Destination”. I was elated, enthused and felt validated, and so my writing journey began.
Author: Diana Nadin
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