Changing winds

I’m thinking about writing.  I think about writing a lot.  I pick up potential cues from my surroundings, from purple trees to children’s playgrounds, to mundane things like being stuck in traffic.  I think about ideas for novels, for non-fiction books, about successful people I would love to get to know so I can write a captivating biography.

But I don’t write enough to call myself a professional writer.  The confidence in my craft is not there yet.

I want to be a writer.  I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was at the age of 11 but it was drilled into my head that writing, music, even marketing were not viable choices for a stable and well-respected career.  Like many people, I want to publish a book – a novel to be specific – perhaps for young adults, as I fondly recall my nose being buried in book after book, after book after book, in my younger years.  I want to make someone fall in love with books the way my favourite authors did.  Books are food for the soul, and they will continue to be throughout your lifetime.  Books can give you inspiration, books can tickle your heart, books can make your insides clench up as you watch the protagonist’s heart break – over aspirations, over a boy or a girl, over betrayal.  You become an omnipotent being hovering from above, perhaps into a rippling lake from your realm, to watch the story within unfold. You see everything, you hear everything, even the deepest thoughts of each character.  But ultimately it is the author who holds the control of the ripples.  It’s up to the author what he or she is willing to show you: which character, what thoughts, where it all happened and in what order of events.  Just how will they take you through the narrative, to keep you interested, to keep your heart pounding, or weeping, or tickled?

It’s a fine art, fiction writing, and it was the first thing on my Bucket List as a child.  Well, I didn’t call it the “Bucket List”; it was one of the “Things I Would Love to Do as a Grown-up”.

But somewhere along the way a new vision – a distraction – prevailed. The prospects of money, glamour and fame that comes with being a stunning, brilliant and formidable businesswoman, especially during a time where although Feminism is a term that is thrown around a lot, still less than 20% of our 500 Fortune Companies C-Suite executives are female.  I wanted to be one of the powerful women to push this statistic, to show that gender equality really works for the good of the world and thus female empowerment is not something to discourage, to shut down, or to fear. With female empowerment there should be no questions asked about whether or not a girl should get an education; no questions asked about whether or not rape is a horrific and cruel crime at any time – by anyone (and needless to say the perpetrator should be severely punished, not the victim shamed); no questions asked whether a girl can make sound decisions when given the same information as a boy.

This new ‘vision’ was too attractive to not at least give it a shot – especially when the ‘world was my oyster’ to the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young adult. Money, fame and a worthy social mission.  “It’ll be awesome.”

But I had no idea – nor had any interest to find out – what the journey to the very top of the corporate ladder would entail, what the kind of environment the corporate world could be, and just how unfathomably huge this tiny world in our universe is.  I banked on my personality doing a complete flip, and trusted this flip to generate the charisma and confidence needed to lead thousands of people.  I had faith I had the brilliance needed to learn quickly and conquer the realm.  To say the least, I was incredibly ambitious, if not arrogant and naive.

So here I am, grounding myself, turning away from the distraction and re-aligning myself.

I will tell my story in detail.  It’s time to keep writing.