Sitting at my desk at work (*yawn*), feeling numb after a day of content reorganising, I realised I didn’t know the first thing about starting a book. What do I even write about?
Ever since high school I’ve been fixated on the idea that, being an* old soul, wise beyond my years, an autobiographical slash self-help novel would be just the ticket. But then Aunty Doubt came knocking and I wondered… ‘Yeah wow, why would anyone care about the musings of a nobody?‘. I don’t have any significant, out of the ordinary tale to tell that would entice anyone to pick up my book. So then I thought damn, back to the drawing board.
But not really. In my dazed state I’ve been staring on and off at some pretty spot-on words of wisdom stuck behind my monitor over a year ago. Words any aspiring author/editor should live by – to write without fear, and edit without mercy.
I decided to throw caution to the wind and choose to write about something I’m comfortable exploring over the next several months. Working title: Growing up ordinary.
* Fixed to ‘an’. Showed too much mercy when I hit publish.