Everyone has an origin story

If I had to write a log line for my writer origin story (i.e. how I came to be a writer), it would go something like this:

She had a burning desire to write and always wanted to be a writer but when the world told her it was too risky and uncertain an option, she chose a safer path…until everything fell apart and she couldn’t ignore that burning desire anymore.

I’m sure, you’d be lining up to buy that memoir, watch that biopic, right?

Scene 01 - My Year 8 English teacher. The day she pulled me aside and said, ‘Jodie you’re a writer’.

I don’t remember if those were her exact words because it was so many years ago but I’m sure you’ll give me a bit of creative licence here.

It was the 80s so imagine big hair and a blue and white stripped, white belted, front button, day dress, a bit like this one…

She was the first person to tell me I was a writer. I was shocked, surprised and a little delighted.

Before that, I knew I loved to read. In fact, when I was eight years old and lived in a small country town, I read all the suitable, for my age, books in the library so the librarian had to order packets of books to be sent from the city so I had something to do with my time.

Then in high school, someone who knew something about writing, named something for me that I hadn’t been able to name for myself.

I am a writer

This may seem like a simple statement, a relatively straightforward four-word sentence. But for me, it’s been laced with complexity. It feels scary, presumptuous, arrogant.

This is the internal dialogue…

My Inner Critic: Who are you to call yourself a writer? Not everyone can call themselves a writer. It’s a special club and you need to know the secret handshake

Me: But I’ve written some things and some of them have been published and I love writing and I love reading.

So? Does that make you a writer, really?

In university, I wrote poetry and short stories and a few got published in the university mag.

Yeah, but you also wrote two really bad novels that you quite rightly, shoved in the bottom draw.

I did all that writing throughout my career - I was a columnist in a women’s business magazine and a parenting magazine. I wrote heaps of freelance articles. I did academic writing and government report writing.

That doesn’t count. That’s not book writing.

I wrote four non-fiction books and co-edited another non-fiction book.

Yeah, but that was non-fiction. And you self-published three of those books.

Two of those books were traditionally published.

Yeah, but how many copies did you sell? And where’s the fiction writing? Real writers write fiction. Did you write any of these books?

Well no, I wish, but…

Damn. My Inner Critic was not wrong. I did have that burning desire to write. I did really, really, really want to be a writer. I did do a lot of writing throughout my career.

But if, over the years, we’d met at a party and you asked me, What do you do? That old chestnut.

I would have said, at various times, “I’m a psychologist, organisational consultant, academic researcher, TEDx speaker, media commentator, brand ambassador, advisor on government projects, workshop facilitator, Chair of the Board of an independent school and business owner.”

I would never had said I was a writer. And this is why…

I was scared.

Too scared to follow my writing dreams. Too frightened to believe I could be a writer. Too worried that I wouldn’t be good enough.

So I chose a safer option. Well, it seemed like a safer option.

• I studied psychology because I had an interest in people, behaviour

• I started a business because I wanted to create my own thing

• I did lots of sorts of writing but not the kind of writing that really mattered, to me

And then I burnt out. Not once but three times. The third time I had to take almost a year off work because I just couldn’t.

Was that third bout of burnout the inciting incident? Is that when I became a writer?

Nope. I still avoided the burning truth within me for a few more years. Until I had a significant birthday and something amazing happened.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care if it was scary. I didn’t care if other people judged me. I didn’t care if I wasn’t good enough.

I just had to do it. So I started writing fiction. YA romance. And OMG I LOVE it!

But what about my Inner Writing Critic, you may ask? What happened to it?

It threw it’s hands in the air and said:

Finally, she’s got it! She’s finally understood what I’ve been trying to tell her for years! She’s meant to write no matter what. She’s meant to do it because she loves it. Not because she wants to get published or be recognised or prove that she’s good enough. She’s meant to write because it’s the creative process.

Wow. I did not know that. If only I’d known that long ago, I could have saved myself so much heartache.

You’re clearly a slow learner.

But I made it! I’m here now. I’m writing and I’m loving it. I’m loving the creative process.

Good on you.

And I want to help others. Tell them to write because they love it. Warn them not to make the same mistakes as me.

Well that is presumptuous and probably arrogant too.

Okay, well I’m going to share what I’ve learnt - not just as a writer but as a psychologist too.

That’s better.

And it won’t be ‘how-to’ because everyone has to find their own way.

I’m listening…

We’ll focus on the creative process and everyone can do their thing.

Good.

You approve?

Yes I approve.

That’s my writing origin story, and that’s also Hey Young Writers’ origin story.

I am a writer. And so are you.

Let’s own that. Do it. Be it. Honour it. See what it brings out in us without placing too many preconceived ideas or expectations on it. Let’s see what it wants to become within us and what it wants to do for us. Let’s work with it and not against it.

That’s the secret handshake. You are now in the special club. Welcome. You belong here. Yes, you do.