A Brief Overview
For those who may not know my history, I began writing novels in 2009 with my first National Novel Writing Month.
In 2012, I began to ‘get serious’ about the craft. I researched agents and submitted a novel in 2013. I gained experience of pitching, sending out queries, being rejected, and receiving requests for my full manuscript. I’ve had my short stories published in multiple anthologies.
I wrote about unbecoming a writer in 2019/2020, and recognised that I’d fallen away from writing in 2017.
In 2021, I tried to salvage my wordcount goals by including my non-fiction articles, but also my typed up journaling. Any time I ‘wrote,’ I counted it. But this also meant I stopped journaling as much when I had that secondary aspect of ticking a box.
Since then (or since I last wrote any update on here, to be honest), I’ve reinvented a lot of my life.
I’m in the process of making some huge adjustments, including moving house, restructuring my business for this new phase, and getting back into reading and writing.
It feels like when I wrote this post about disintegrating into a soup, I really had no idea it would take longer than a year. But nature works in cycles, and I am still in the final edges of the disintegration of my old life.
Including my old ‘writing’ self.
The Process of Integration
It feels like I’ve written something akin to this before (in that post I link above, to be honest), and yet, this weekend I’ve finished a short story ready for submission. I’ve been returning to livestreams and planning some times in the next two months to carve out for writing fiction specifically.
It is only once we strip away the dead branches, that new buds can sprout.
Well, I’m almost finished with my pruning for this season, and I’m ready to ease myself, gently, back into this space. To connect with that voice I felt I’ve needed, yet also needed her own space to dissolve and reform.