“There is the book that you must write and then there’s the book you can publish.”
“Write the book that you NEED to write.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert, Magic Lessons Podcast
The words played over and over again in my mind. So simple. So true.
She spoke about not being afraid to tell your story; the one buried deep inside of you. The one that cries out for attention but that we so often stifle.
The story you need to tell.
The one that needs to be set free.
I’ve played around with book ideas for as long as I can remember. Plot line after plot line, character after character skipping through my mind on the back of an untold narrative. I’ve filled notebooks with poor chapters that left me reaching for the trash can after just a handful of days. I’ve cringed at dialogue I once found so enticing. I’ve stopped in the middle of the street to scrawl down a detailed plan, only to never return to the page again.
But I’m not hard on myself. It happens. And I’ve always know the story is in there somewhere. I just had to find it.
I think. I think I might have found it.
Something changed within me after posting the piece on being a child of mental health. The blocks started to fall into place. The healing process begun.
The incredible feedback from that one article left me stunned. Friends, family, people I hadn’t spoken to in years, strangers from the internet. Their words filled me with love and made me feel like, maybe, I wasn’t quite as alone as I had once thought.
I made them feel less alone.
And they saw me as brave.
Maybe it was brave. I don’t know. To me it was just about being honest. Honest with myself. Honest with the rest of the world. Not being ashamed anymore. Accepting myself wholeheartedly, scars and all.
Now I want to keep being honest.
I want to use my past, my present and my future as inspiration for a novel. A novel crafted to shed light on such a common yet ignored part of people’s lives. A novel that tries to stop us – me – from being scared.
I’m writing it for myself. But I’m also writing it for so many others.
This book might not go anywhere. In fact, it might not ever leave my notebook. I cannot predict how I will feel when I see every single raw word written down in the cold, hard light of day.
But I know I need to write it. I need to create this fictional world to make sense of my reality. For closure. For peace.
I would love for this book to travel beyond my own little writing desk. To see it flourish, to reach out to those who feel so very disconnected. It’s the dream, of course it is. And I know that with my new lifestyle down under, I will be in a perfect state mentally and physically to truly get this ball rolling.
I feel like I’m on the edge of something. Even if it isn’t 100% clear yet.
And for now? Pen to paper. Nothing more.