I recently finished reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, and, honestly, it’s a powerful book.
Creative Living Beyond Fear.
Even though I’ve now reached a point in my life where I am at one with my creativity, be that writing or illustrating, I found myself drawn to Gilbert’s words. Some chapters almost felt as though they were written about me, or for me.
I guess that’s the thing with creative people. We are all in the same boat. We are all just hoping to tap into that ‘Big Magic’ as Gilbert calls it.
It’s a book I wish younger me had read. Seriously. Younger, twenty-something me would have benefited enormously from some of the chapters in this book.
Not that I haven’t learned anything from it now. I have.
A Dream on a Bumpy Bus
But twenty-something me is the person who truly started my writing ambitions. Back in university, I started writing what would become my debut novel, Under His Shadow.
That’s way back in 2013.
A scene came to me in a dream. I had the same dream maybe two or three nights in a row. And I remembered it vividly. And each time, different details would be spotlighted.
In the end, over a free period at university, I decided to write the dream down.
The words spewed onto the page, without me having to work too hard at it. Like they’d been waiting for me to write them.
I worked at expanding this one scene into a broader story. I’d use any spare time I could find. Commuting to university, on the bus and train, free periods, lunch breaks. My notebook was never out of reach.
I still have my old notebook containing different scenes and brainstorms. Some of my handwriting is almost illegible given the state of the roads. Unfortunately, most of the loose papers were misplaced or thrown out.
Switching from Discovery to Editor Mode
I spent one half-term break typing what I’d jotted down on paper into a word processor. At the time, I wasn’t sure what happened, but that initial spark faded. I now suspect that typing my handwritten scenes clicked my brain from discovery mode to editor mode without me realising it.
I abandoned the pen and paper (another big mistake, but hey, I was a rookie) and opted to type everything. I’d save time. Except, it’s not as easy getting a laptop out on a bus or train. And we’re talking mid-2010s… Laptops weren’t as lightweight as they are today.
I could no longer write in those moments. I probably should have gone back to pen and paper, but I didn’t think of that.
When I got the chance, I sat and stared at a blank page on my computer screen, willing the words to flow, as they had in the beginning. But they didn’t.
So, I gave up.
In the end, I stopped turning up. In my head, I was only taking a short break, but that short break turned into a 3-year hiatus.
I stopped considering myself a writer. Why? Well, how could I call myself a writer if I wasn’t writing?
Life got in the way of me returning to the page. As cliché as that sounds. Or should I say (now that I have some hindsight), I failed to prioritise my craft. Because it was difficult, I put off writing.
I met my partner (who’s now my husband). We had a son; we travelled around the world until the pandemic locked the world down.
The November That Changed Everything
It wouldn’t be until November 2020, while I was pregnant with my second child, that I sat down again to work on the story.
I finished the first draft as part of the NaNoWriMo challenge. And that was the best feeling ever. I then spent the next five years editing the story. One draft per year, roughly. I was terrified of letting the world see what I’d written.
I was terrified of being so vulnerable.
Perhaps if I’d read Big Magic, I wouldn’t have attached so much of my self-worth to my work. I would have learned maybe how to control that paralysing fear.
I got there on my own in the end. I self-published my debut novel because I owed it to those 12 years of my life.
12 years of having this story live inside my head, and only my head (except a select few beta readers). That’s not why I wanted to write. I write stories so other people can read them. To enchant, to entertain.
It’s liberating to know that once the story exists on paper, it no longer belongs to you. As the author, I am responsible for ‘birthing’ the story. After that, I cannot control what happens.
And freeing myself of that ‘prison’ has inevitably helped me grow as a creative person.
Have you read Big Magic? Or do you have a story sitting in your head that you’ve been afraid to finish? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. (And if you’re curious about the story that took me 12 years to bring into the world, you can learn more about Under His Shadow here)
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