I have wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. The thought of writing stories for a living excited me so much that I’d often spend hours procrastinating about building(and I mean building) a novel from scratch, complete from the cover to the epilogue. I’ve always dream of being a ‘700 something page’ novelist a la J.K Rowling(who was may only inspiration back then) someone who’d be known for creativity as well as fluidity of the language.
My affliction for writing goes back to when I was 7 years old, I was really into this ‘Superhero’ novel I was writing at that time. I thought it’d be huge by the time I finished it. Sadly for the younger me, after all the toil and hard work the finished product amounted to a total of 17 pages!! I was devastated but I consoled myself by saying I was too young and that I should try it sometime later in life.
5 years later
By this time in life I had seen a few things, learnt a few things. I thought I had done enough growing up. 5 years after all is a long time. I started writing again, at this point in my life I might have written countless prologues and also ended up ripping all of them. I was never happy with the narrative, my characters never seemed to come to life when I read through. There seemed no point in continuing to write if the starting was going to be so stale. I had failed yet again. My failures hurt me, but mostly because it had seemed so easy at first.
I am still not an accomplished writer. I have not evolved into the linguistic genius I had hoped to be but.. I haven’t given up yet. I still look forward to the day when I will decorate the ‘700 something pages’ with my ink and follow it up with a The End.