Do you ever get those happy feet? Those tippy-tappy, hippy-happy, jump-up-and-down-and-just-gotta-clappy feet?
I’m only partly having fun here. There are genuine times where my excitement is so great that I just have to do a little dance. This mainly comes with writing. I’ve always had this dream that I’ll become a successful author and instil wonder and laughter in young people (I write Middle Grade humour fiction). I’ll help other aspiring writers to get published after me and dedicate my whole life to the written word.
But most of all, I’ve always associated this sort of freedom with being an author. And, in truth, the only time I feel free is when I write. Some people call it a calling, some people call it their nature, others say it’s what they were born to do. Clichés. Clichés that are completely true.
Even fourteen years, ten books, countless edits, dozens of discarded ideas, millions of words and hundreds of rejections later, the same fire burns within me. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s stronger now. Before, I wanted to be a children’s author. Now, I need to be one.
After all this time, I still love everything to do with writing. I love plotting and character development. I love reading and analysing. I love creating stories and editing (that’s right, I love editing!). I love figuring out new ways to communicate the ideas in my head. Thinking up of new jokes to make readers laugh. Granted, the rejections suck a bit, but we can’t have it all our own way.
And now I feel closer than ever. More aware than ever. More capable than ever. And more confident than ever. Even as I write this, my happy feet are working away under my desk. Electricity is surging through my fingertips. I’m levitating off the chair…ok, maybe not that.
You get the point.
I adore writing and I always will. Whether I’m successful when I next submit or it takes another ten books, those happy feet will keep tapping and I’ll keep smiling.
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