To be a writer?

When did you decide to write? The question for which authors so often have a funny anecdote, or a poignant memory, an uncle that sat down and gave an inspirational speech, a book that changed their whole world. My life has never been in order of epiphany. I have no memory of deciding I ever wanted to commit to anything, and actually follow through with it.

In primary school the teachers thought I was dyslexic. I was dragged out of my favourite lesson at the time, maths, to go and spell things they knew I couldn't spell. I had two English tutors outside of school while I was growing up. So supportive. I have a clear memory of when my mum told me to read more advanced books. I liked Mr Men far longer than any child should. I have always found it impossible to express myself vocally. My first love of language sprang from acting. I joined a drama class at the age of six and was there for eight years. I have always been passionate about music and fascinated by the power of great lyrics – since the age of about three. Since my early teens I've been interested in stand-up comedy and film. Also, because I've always found it difficult to interact with other people, I've been interested in psychology for as long as I remember.

I think of writing as something that just happens. It’s something I want to do. To be a writer you have to write. To be a musician you have to play music. To be an actor you have to act.

I have always recognised myself as a musician because of my love for music, but that is something I gave up because I no longer had the opportunity to play.

I have never recognised myself as a writer because I've always had a complicated relationship with writing. I do actively write a lot. I find that in life I am constantly bombarded with information and peoples’ opinions and my brain running round in circles thinking about everything. When I’m upset or struggling to say something, for me the only way to express myself is by writing. There’s times when I've had a long day, surrounded by people who won’t shut up my head filled with stress and worry. I will actively go and sit somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from everything. Somewhere nothing matters. My head is like a barrel completely filled with water which keeps pouring in. I never get to release any of this, the barrel is always full. There are very few people that I am comfortable in saying anything around. Writing is the only release I have found which works.

I am always thinking about the future and worrying about how I will actually pay for things and participate in life. I know that in an ideal world I would become an author. I also know that’s very unlikely, but one of that maters when I’m writing. There’s two different types. There’s, like this, when it’s difficult, it’s challenging and it’ll come across as forced. But, when I’m really writing my brain bubbles, and it all pours out of my pen. I’m no longer with any of this world. I no longer have any worries. I am watching another world, far away.