Why this writer writes - "The Power of Purpose: Exploring the Motivations Behind a Writer's Craft"

A lifetime of forgetting the joy and power in Daydreaming.

I had been dreaming about this for almost a year!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DTK428RZ

I finished my first novel at the end of March 2024 and it was written with all the ease of someone who has suffered for their art but who allows it to flow out of them for others pleasure and entertainment. There are many lessons in the story. Learned by the Author and shared for the reader.

I hadn’t expected to make another literary contribution because I did not yet consider myself a writer. Since completing my novel, things are making more sense. Maybe, just maybe all the truth seeking, the incessant questions and the insatiable thirst for data, research and to make sense of it all was leading to one conclusion.

I love the components of a story. Conversations, people watching, books, movies…..its all in my brain, whirring around. A system that sifts and sorts until its ready to spit out a synopsis. That synopsis pirouettes, spins and dips. Sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly.

When it materializes, historically, I have done nothing with it. Letting the inspiration ebb away, to be replaced with something new. Somewhere, on some level becoming more and more frustrated that there is no outlet for the rising tsunami of stuff I WANT TO SAY!

Perhaps everyone feels this way. I doubt it. No two people experience the world in the same way. We don’t experience emotions in the same way and have varying capacities for creativity, imagination and visualization.

The more native I go – out of my comfort zone of London, something quite profound is happening within me. Now the wrong side of almost a decade from my corporate career, deeper into the French countryside, a new culture, new language and testing my capabilities and competencies beyond what I could ever have imagined doing, I can no longer define myself in any way by who I used to be.

I arrived in France just over two years ago with a dream of building a business beside a loving partner. Cared for, supported and inspired by the newness of my environment and my relationship. Instead, I found myself living in constant fear and anxiety with an undiagnosed psychopath. My life was deliberately put in danger several times and I nearly lost my sanity trying to work out what was happening to my mind and body.

Was it brain fog or gaslighting? My memory or his lies? My misunderstanding or his deception? Hot flushes or burning anxiety? Stress of a new environment or mini panic attacks brought on by constant fear and confusion?

I came here with a vague idea that I would write a novel in my spare time. I had no idea that my spare time would become the storyline for the novel.

In all the noise and distraction of my misspent life, I had forgotten who I was. I hadn’t become the person, I grew up imagining I would be. She was still in there somewhere. Sometimes her voice could be heard but she wasn’t happy, joyous and free. She was angry, frustrated and sadly disappointed.

The farther I have travel from work, London, addiction and abuse the more of the hopeful, excitable and loving child I once was, has emerged. My love of writing, walking, daydreaming and solitude are all present and accounted for. Embraced and appreciated.

The party going extrovert is having a well-deserved rest. In fact, she has probably retired, although she might not want to admit it yet.

My first globally published piece of writing was an International Best Seller in 4 countries, in multiple categories in less than a week from release. That doesn’t have to mean anything to anyone else other than me. I know what I had to experience to live the story and why it was important for other women, to share the story.

Jonnie and I went for a long walk to savour our perceived success. If I didn’t acknowledge this moment for myself, no one else would. We weren’t inundated with phone calls, no one was rushing to congratulate me. I claimed that moment for myself.

Advocating for myself has become a huge part of my journey in the last two years.

Writing is something I can do every day, no matter what. It was the only thing I could control when the world around me was swirling with chaos and uncertainty. I felt my personal power return when I sat down at my laptop after a long, cold, wet and windy walk with Jonnie to punch out the next chapter.

Writing is powerfully healing. The health benefits of writing about the traumatic past or the best possible future are almost exactly the same.

Writing creates connection. I reconnected with the Wounded Child and the Adapted Child. Writing as the Functional Adult, fully committed to healing the wounds of the past for a joyful, liberated and fulfilled future, I could no longer ignore their pain and pretend that my outer world was not reflecting the fact their needs had gone unmet for so long.

Through my writing I am finally meeting my own needs. To use my talents for enjoyment, education and exploration of the deeper meaning of human experience. To listen to myself, even if others are not hearing me.

To have fun with it. Experience, strength and hope. My world got turned upside down.

Writing grounded me.

In the story, I found myself again.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DTK428RZ