Bonus Essay: Why I Write

Normally, only paid subscribers receive bonus posts, but this one is for everyone!

When I first started writing fiction, I didn’t tell anyone. It was just for me. I had a dream of becoming a published writer, but I wasn’t sure I would ever be good enough. So, I started a teaching degree. Well, that didn’t last long. And for good reasons. I enjoy teaching, but I don’t enjoy all the politics and red tape behind it. It wasn’t for me.

By this time, I had written a few short stories and poems that no one had ever read, nor are they ever likely to. They are not good! I felt a tremendous amount of joy when I was writing them. I’ve always loved getting lost in a story. Anyone who has known me since I was a young child could tell you how much I loved reading. I distinctly remember one Christmas when I ignored everyone because I wanted to read my new Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone book with my dad in a quiet corner of our family gathering. This then led to a ritual of us waiting for the next book to be released and reading it together as soon we got hold of it. He’ll tell you that he only read the books for me. But I know he loves those books, too. It wasn’t until the first movie came out that I discovered I had been pronouncing Hermione’s name wrong. It’s Her-my-o-nee, not Her-me-own! Thanks, Dad!

So, a love of reading turned into a love of writing. I left my teaching degree and quickly enrolled in a BA in Creative Writing. It was a good fit. I loved every second of it. Even staying up until 2am to get assignments completed after a full day of work. Towards the end of my BA, I started to have some short stories and poems published. I joined the editorial team of a couple of small independent literary journals. I started a blog. Everything was going well.

After completing my BA, I decided to enrol in an MA in Editing and Publishing. Slight change of direction, but not unrelated. I really enjoyed the editing and publishing side of things, and I was particularly interested in publishing history. My thesis was going to be on a history of censorship in publishing. Riveting stuff!

Oh, and while I was studying my MA program, I decided to add another degree to my workload by enrolling in a BA in English Literature and History. You might have spotted a pattern (degree number four currently underway). Everything was going swimmingly. I was somehow managing working 30 hours a week, completing an MA and BA, writing and publishing short fiction and poems, elected to a board of a company, and working as an editor for three small independent online publishers.

Then, COVID-19 happened. You can probably guess what happened next. The proverbial hit the fan. At this stage, I was working as a receptionist in a GP clinic. So, you can imagine that it was a particularly stressful and busy time work-wise. I dropped out of both degrees, but had completed enough coursework to graduate with a Graduate Certificate in Editing and Publishing and Associate Degree in English Literature and History. I resigned from my position on the board of the company. I resigned from the editor positions on the three publications. I also stopped writing.

For four years.

There were other things that prevented me from writing, but COVID-19 was the first thing in a chain of events. I went through a lot during those four years and I’m happy to say I’m out the other side. I don’t regret my decisions, but I still feel sad about them, and I would be lying if I said I never thought about the ‘what if’.

In the past twelve months, I’ve had some very big life changes. I decided to leave my full-time job of 12 years and venture out on my own. It was a difficult decision to make for many reasons, but I know it was the right one. I started a business and now work for myself. About 10 months ago, I started writing again. I rediscovered why I loved it so much and it has been a huge joy to have it back in my life after all this time.

I have found that I approach my writing differently now. I care less about the number of times my work gets published and more about the quality of my work. I want my work to mean something. To give value to the person who reads it.

I have a short story forthcoming in a wonderful publication (more details soon, I promise). I worked on this story for three months. At only 2,915 words, she’s short (oh she’s definitely a she) but she’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written. I love this story. It’s full of hope and the power of female friendship. It was the story I needed to write.

I knew exactly where I wanted it to be published, but I also wasn’t sure that it was exactly the right fit for the publisher. I hit send anyway. I was already thinking of other publishers I might like to send it to after it inevitably got rejected. I wasn’t upset by the idea of rejection. An idea that had always filled me with dread in the past. Instead, I was quite pragmatic about the whole thing. If one publisher rejected my story, then I would just send it on to the next until it eventually found its home. I felt a sense of peace with the process that I had not felt before.

Then the story was accepted.

I was genuinely shocked. Good shocked, not bad shocked. I had to read the acceptance email three times before it sunk in. Then, I jumped around with glee for the next half an hour. There were witnesses. It would have been embarrassing, but I was too happy to feel ashamed for my child-like exaltations. It was a lovely moment, really.

I’ve learnt not to place so much pressure on myself. All I can do is try my best. I can’t control the rest, so I’ve made a conscious decision to not spend my time worrying about the things out of my control. Sometimes, this is easier said than done, but I will continue trying.

I can’t wait to share the story with you all when it comes out.

I hope you have a magical weekend!

Lauren Elizabeth

P.S. I left a hint about the title of my forthcoming story in the image at the top of this post. Any guesses?