I was determined that I would be Enid Blyton when I grew up. My earliest memories involve me straining my eyes by torchlight under my covers, too captivated by the world I was transported to and the characters I met there, to contemplate going to sleep.
I had a nurturing primary school teacher who encouraged me to read as many different genres as I could and to write, write and then write some more. (Thank you Mr Townsend).
As I grew older, while I never lost my love of reading, writing fell by the wayside. Much to my disappointment I just grew bigger and never turned into my favourite author and It seemed ludicrous to ever conceive I would be in print one day. Anyway, I had a job, a family and many hobbies to keep me occupied.
In my 30s I had a car accident which caused some spinal damage and exacerbated a pre-existing medical condition and I was left with very limited mobility. The advice of my spinal consultant to take up knitting was quickly disregarded but what could I do? Never one normally to sit still, my new enforced lifestyle left me with little choice, I needed something to occupy my mind, a purpose, some joy.
I toyed with the idea of writing but who, I thought, would want to read my stories? I don’t know the answer to that one yet but it turned out that many people wanted to read my personal story. Being a (former) kinesiologist and nutritional therapist and a (current) mindfulness coach I found I had a lot of knowledge and experience on how to live happily, healthily and peacefully internally, regardless of external circumstances. I was soon writing for many disability and health magazines and sites.
I started a professional blog celebrating health, happiness and peaceful living and share much of myself with my readers. However I always have a valid (in my mind) reason why I haven’t started writing fiction yet. I am too busy, too tired, too uninspired, too, well, you get the picture.
Over the past few weeks I have been reading many of your blogs and WOW. I have been blown away by the talent and pure energy that shines through the posts. I have been in tears one minute and laughing the next as your carefully constructed sentences convey so much raw emotion. The subject matters have been nothing short of genius and I am more than a little bit in awe of you all.
Today I was asked to write a piece for a magazine I contribute to on living fearlessly because, said the editor, I know all about that with my health challenges. Hearing these words the inner me hung her head in shame. I may have overcome many difficulties but the thought of writing and putting any fiction out there makes me feel vulnerable and exposed. If I don’t though how can I possibly be an advocate for fearless living?
So I have set up this blog with no plan, no posts written and no idea where to proceed from here. I feel naked and vulnerable but determined to at least try and post something (if my nervously sweaty fingers don’t slip off the publish button).