When Secret Cravings closed their doors, and 11 of my books were no longer available to buy, i was so upset.
I didn’t know how much it actually affected me until, fast forward a year, and i have not typed The End since.
I realise that with Secret cravings closing, I felt a little defeated. Gutted. Im sure it affected more than just me in this way – i hope it didn’t- but i bet my husbands left nut it did.
Just the other day, someone asked me what i ‘do’ – Besides that fact, i have two kids, a house, an imminent move to another continent, I actually paused before I answered.
I FREAKING paused!
If someone had asked me what I ‘do’ a year ago, I would have proudly announced that I am an Author. I would have handed over a business card and pointed them in the direction of my website, Amazon page and even produced a flyer from my Mary Poppins handbag. I would have smiled and answered as they peppered me with questions – “What do you write?” “How many books do you have out?” – “I never knew you wrote.” – obviously, these questions always lead to “where do i find your books?” And i always had an answer…
On this day I didn’t… And it made me a little embarrassed. Which is silly, I know, but it did. Iv’e written 13 books, books I bled my heart into, books I proudly showed off, books i cried over and laughed over – books I WROTE – and 11 suddenly were gone…
Talk about epic disappointment.
“Where do I buy your books?” …. Well… nowhere at the moment – Doesn’t that sound flat? Doesn’t that sound weak? Doesn’t that sound stupid? – I felt like a fraud. I walked away from that encounter very sad. Utterly depressed.
But just today, my sons teacher asked me about my books, about my writing, and I had knowledge, actual knowledge about world building, character growth and plot building. I knew all about writing a book, a story – a place that only my mind can make up.
And then just like that, it hit me.
I AM a bloody Author. I DO have 13 books with my bloody name on! Just because the publisher I was with closed its doors, it doesn’t mean my need to write disappeared.
And so what if those books aren’t out now? They will be again and if not, another one will replace it…
I dont do self pity, but apparently, I have been wallowing in a vast, damp pit of it without realising.
So, today, i opened my laptop, wrote 2k words without breathing or looking up, I sent them to my BETA reader, made her cry “I WANT MORE!” and BOOM! I felt whole again.
Being a writer is who I am. Who I was before Secret Cravings… WHO I WILL ALWAYS BE.
I have dark and twisted characters in my brain and if I don’t let them out, well, shit… I don’t care to find out what would happen.