So… remember how I boldly announced I was starting my “becoming a writer” journey? You know, setting off with all the dramatic flair of someone sharpening a quill pen by candlelight and whispering, “This is it, destiny awaits.”
Well. About that.
I promptly vanished.
Not in the cool, mysterious, Hemingway-vanishes-to-the-wilderness way. More like the “life decided to throw me in a blender, hit the purée button, and then pour me out somewhere completely different” kind of way.
Here’s the highlight reel of what happened during my totally intentional creative hiatus:
I moved house. Which sounds romantic and adult until you realize it mostly involves trying to figure out how many IKEA Allen keys a human can own before they legally become a Swedish citizen. (Spoiler: the answer is infinite.) I drove 20 hours across Sweden. From one end of the country to the other. Twenty hours. That’s basically the Swedish version of The Odyssey, except instead of sea monsters, I battled roadside gas station coffee and an existential crisis somewhere near Sundsvall. I got a new job in guest relations—which is very exciting, but also means I had to swap my old spa uniform (which basically let me glide around like a zen cucumber) for outfits that say, I can solve your booking problem with a smile while secretly wondering if my blazer counts as battle armor.
So yes, technically, I stepped away from my writing. But! In my defense, I was out there collecting plot material. Because isn’t moving, road-tripping, and starting a new job just the real-life equivalent of “character development”?
Anyway—I’m back. Slightly more frazzled, possibly more caffeinated, and definitely with enough IKEA anecdotes to write an entire Nordic saga.
The moral of the story? My writing journey didn’t stall—it just took a scenic detour.
Stay tuned, because the next chapter is finally being written (hopefully with fewer Allen keys involved).
20 hours of driving and my legs forgot how to walk.
I have written a lot. Ninety percent of it will never see the light of day. My laptop, my notebook, my handbag full of handwritten notes on scrap pieces of paper, all full of light bulb moments where I have started off a day just existing in my little life but am then engulfed by a wave of inspiration. I have written all sorts as well. Fantasy stories, documentary reviews, weird and wonderful nonsense stories. The truth is, I don’t really know what to write about, or what to focus on. Is it acceptable for a writer to write about so many different genres? Is it normal to want to write about everything you encounter?
I always fancied myself as a writer. But I wouldn’t consider myself any good. Not yet at least. Today I learned about the ‘inverted pyramid’ format that journalists often use to write their articles. I must be honest; writing is far more complicated than I first thought. Or is it just journalism that seems so complicated? This is where my novice self (or perhaps naive) wonders if I can do this. But again, it brings me back to my question, what should I write about? How does one know what they are good at? Do I go with what my heart tells me to, or what other people say I am better at? Does a person have to be natural to be good at something, or get good to be natural? (…whoa, I’ll save that mighty philosophical question for another day!)
I feel a bit lost as to what to focus on, and whether this is a normal way to feel. I always did well at English in my school years and wrote a LOT of academic essays when I was at university. My degrees have absolutely nothing to do with writing by the way. I trained to be a nurse but ended up working in a hotel (which serves me well I just say).
Do I just put what I’ve written out to the world and see which one gets traction? Or shall I focus solely on one route? I have so many questions. I thought perhaps that one way to get a grasp of this is to first write down a few facts about me. Visually seeing something written down is such a helpful way to declutter the thoughts. So, this is me I guess, let the facts commence!
Fact: I love to read psychological thrillers, crime, mysteries, anything that is like a puzzle (with lots of plot twists!). I like science, films (big movie buff!) and documentaries. I am also a sucker for a good old romcom now and then.
Fact: I love doing word searches. But it has to be a good old fashion pencil and paper word search. Not on a phone or screen. It’s something about the monotonous gliding up and down each column with a pencil unscrambling the letters in my head I find immensely soothing. It’s like 18th century equivalent to today’s Doom scrolling I guess. I am NOT a fan of social media by the way. I use it perhaps now and then, but it can be months in between.
Fact: I will watch any sort of documentary. Literally anything. I love them.
Fact: I have a good imagination for romance and crime but I lose track of my story when I write about it. Though I am not sure if this is because I don’t know what I’m doing yet (I am not trained in creative writing, I just do it because I like it).
Fact: I am definitely an extroverted introvert. I love people, I find people interesting, and I love to be around people when I’m working. I am a warm and chatty person. I feel people would often describe me as “outgoing” which might be true to some extent. But when I am at home I want to be by myself or with my family. I don’t like going out anymore. The thought of having to socialise after work, for example, fills me with that “yuk” feeling (I am just being honest, don’t judge me).
Fact: I definitely work better with facts.
Fact: I think I need to do some sort of writing course.
Another fact: I don’t know why I’m writing fact again, but I like it.
Possible solutions:
Option 1: Just keep on writing in this free-for-all chaos and hope for the best.
Option 2: Go to uni. Submerge myself into it for however long, come out the worlds next best writer.
Option 3: Compromise and find an online part-time course and learn whilst still writing in my own time.
Option 4: Give up, admit defeat. Accept I am not a writer.
If anyone reading this wants to submit a vote on which option I should choose, please do so below:
So here I am. I’ve finally done it. I set up my own blog. Something I’d been threatening to do for years but never quite followed through—like joining a gym, learning French, or cleaning out that one terrifying kitchen drawer.
Right now, I’m sitting in a hotel room in that weird time between winter and spring, staring out at a barren Lapland landscape. The snow has melted, the grass is doing its best impression of boiled asparagus, and the trees are basically naked skeletons, just standing there, judging me. In between bouts of staring into nothingness, I keep asking myself: how the hell did I end up here?
I don’t know if anyone will ever read this, I am not even looking at the screen whilst I type this in case I over-concentrate on grammatical mistakes and forget everything I want to say. Do people even read blogs anymore? I have no idea, but I want to write anyway. I question if I will be any good at this as well…
I love my mind, my creativity. I consider myself an innovator. I have a lot of ideas, some good, some terribly bad. Though my brain runs at a million miles an hour sometimes. This is a good thing most of the time, but sometimes I get brain ache from having so many ideas in a short amount of time. I read somewhere once that writers can get “too many ideas” syndrome and I often wonder if this is what I have; when the ideas just keep coming, wave after wave, and my brain is frantically trying to file them away before they get forgotten.
Or maybe I am just a divergent thinker? I can often see a solution before I have finished the plan. It’s like I have a “sixth sense” to know what the end goal needs to be, and figuring out the route to get there, comes afterwards. Sounds mystical, right? Like some creative oracle? Yeah… it’s probably just common sense, but let’s not ruin the magic. Either way, any hiccups along the way I just see as a redirection. Never an obstacle!
I learned about Thomas Edison when I was younger and how he had over 1000 unsuccessful attempts at making a light bulb. But he was quoted as saying “I will not say I failed 1000 times, I will say that I successfully found 1000 ways NOT to make a light bulb”. This stuck with me my whole life. He knew the electric light bulb was the solution, or the ‘end goal’ if you like, but it was the journey to that goal that was the puzzle. I am categorically not comparing myself to such a brilliant inventor, I am merely saying I resonate with that mentality.
I was never quite the same as my peers, I was always “the quirky one”. The way I thought, the things I liked. I would always be the one to speak up in the room, say ‘what I thought’ (as tactfully as possible of course), put things right when there’s been an injustice, call people out on their bull. I have always tended to rub people up the wrong way as well, but I never meant to, I don’t mean to, ever. I guess I am what you might call “strong minded”. I am a very kind and honest person (though I think it’s the honesty that people haven’t liked). It’s like I have this impulse to speak when it’s probably better not to. Don’t get me wrong either, I’m certainly no angel. At times I have had strong words with myself when I’ve messed up!
But I do think it’s because of this impulsive nature and lack of fear to speak my mind that I find it easier to come up with ideas, be creative, be wonderfully weird. For me, it’s rare for an idea to seem too crazy, or outlandish (as long as it’s legal, and nobody is getting hurt in the process!). I mean, life is short, right? I visualise ideas (or problems) like a puzzle in my mind, moving pieces around trying to figure out which piece fits. In my mind, everything is possible. Life is just one big puzzle.
It took me a long time to realise that this quirky side to me, that this “too many ideas” thing was a good “thing” and not a burden like I thought for most of my younger years. Growing up I struggled to focus because my head felt as though it would explode with my mind racing at the speed of light. But I realised as I got older and a (little) bit wiser, I was just on the wrong path and was not utilising this to its potential. I probably would have been best suited working in a creative job, or innovation, or design of some sort really. But younger me didn’t know these roles even existed at the time, so I can’t regret the ‘what ifs’… C’est la vie!
This is why I have now turned to writing. I don’t want this side of me to ever fizzle out. I want to share my quirky thoughts, my colourful ideas, and my nonsense stories. To look at me now I am, well, perfectly ordinary. But that doesn’t mean my mind is. It saddens me to have to admit but I toned down my external “quirkiness” to be taken more seriously at work some years ago. It worked in the professional sense, but only fuelled the fire to be more creative through other means. Writing has become my outlet, my sanctuary, my carte blanche to be as wonderfully weird as I like. No big words, no dry academia, just soul-food words, nonsense musings, and maybe the occasional rant about anaemic Lapland grass.
So, this is it: my writing journey. Whether it becomes a masterpiece or a glorified diary, I’m here, typing away, inviting you into my puzzle-piece brain.
Welcome aboard. Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times.
Just Wanna Write 