What could I possibly learn from writing fiction? Aren’t I basically just making stuff up? What lessons even await me in the worlds of make-believe?
I had written for eight years before I decided to embark on my authorial journey, and I thought I knew everything when it came to this new pursuit, but boy, did I learn that I actually knew jack squat.
So these past few months have been an enlightening time, with Covid-19 sweeping in and changing the way the world works forever. It’s done so with such proficiency that it seems like our old way of living has gone out the window.
But I’m not complaining, because for me, things have actually turned out for the better.
When I quit my job, all I had in mind was to write one novel. I didn’t think it would turn into three.
I also thought I’d be doing all the work in Google Docs. That grew to encompass most of the popular methods as well.
And if you’re anything like me, you’re probably spending all your writing time searching for irrelevant things like ‘best plot structure’ and ‘funny puppy videos’, which explains why you’re reading this article.
All right I’m going to start this off my saying that I may or may not have depression. Let me explain.
I’ve never been a particularly happy person as far as I can remember. In fact, the last time I’d felt true joy was probably at the age of twelve. Then secondary school came and swept me off into the world of angst and darkness.
Even after embarking on my third novel, after I’ve accepted that the first draft will always be shit, after living through the mantra that writing is rewriting, I still have days when I find the process just a tad frustrating.