I sit and write this, despite my migraine, despite the sound of building work in the kitchen and despite three children being in the house.
I sit and write because I know I can. I know I have to. I have it inside me and I have to get it out.
What's more... I know I will post this post, I will tweet the link on Twitter, and there will be someone who understands. I love the friendship, companionship and support that comes from the writing community.
If it wasn't for the support of others; Twitter users, blogging friends and Facebook friends, I would not be here now writing this, and calling myself a writer.
Out here in the real world I think my writing is seen as a bit of a hobby. A bit of a waste of time. Something that *adds* to my stress. Something that I *bore* people about. All of these things have been said or implied. The truth is, it calms me. I love it. I feel passionate about it and I take great delight from writing things down that resemble fiction.
I think the respect will come from certain quarters only when I start to make money from my writing.
Along with the fact that writing is not just a hobby to me, it is a *part* of me, only serves to make me more determined, more passionate, and more likely, in my opinion, to succeed.
I have been sitting on book one. It's there, it really is. All I need to do is finish off my synopsis and letter and address the email. That's it. Why haven't I? I'm scared... that is all. Scared of rejection. Scared that these people who don't 'get it' could be right.
Yet every week I write stories and people say they like them. I've even had some published. I have a contract for goodness sake. I am in a fighting mood as I write this. People out here in my real world don't realise that being negative about something makes me determined to prove them wrong.
I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo again. Oh yes I am. The people I mention have no idea. They think I am taking a break from my writing. Well I am doing it and I am loving it. I am *ahead of schedule*.
I am also determined now that before the end of November, book one will be out there looking for a new home.
I am *so* going to do this.
My six year old looked up at me on Thursday when I had a copy of '50 Stories for Pakistan' in my hand. He said 'Are you a published writer now, mummy?'
When I said, 'yes' he looked so proud of me. He gave me a big hug and said 'well done'. This is the thing that has meant the most to me out of everything I have ever done with my writing.
I am glad that my first book is a children's book. I know who I am going to dedicate it to.
If anyone has read this, thank you. It's one of those get-it-out-and-set-it-free kind of posts.
It's basically, just me...
x x x x