My Writing History

...and what it reveals

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(Listen above or read below, the choice is yours. It’s a slightly longer share today. Either way, I suggest a nice cup of tea and a sweet treat accompaniment…but then I would!)

I have been writing since I can remember. Working out my feelings and thoughts through the written word before I probably even knew what feelings and thoughts were in any objective sense. I wrote stories in looping cursive letters from the time I could put pen to paper (literally pen to paper, because we were not allowed to use ink until we had perfected that loopy joined up writing). And way before that proud upgrade to the fountain pen — which I always broke because, like many things, they aren’t really made for left handers — I wrote stories with crayons, drawing the pictures to go with them. I remember one series about a family of owls going on different adventures, which I loved writing.

My sister also recently found a story I wrote called The Muddy Puddle, where I was apparently dealing with feelings about my friends splashing me with mud. I probably wrote it when I was 6 or 7. I don’t remember. I do remember writing a poem about water and how important water is. I felt strongly about that!

When I was 10, I wrote a play about Christopher Columbus (I wanted to go to the Americas and he had been, so I thought he was cool… My feelings about him are obviously more nuanced now). The play was performed at the end of year at my school. I gave myself the part of who else but Christopher Columbus, which looking back brings me both shame and utter joy in my boldness. A young boy in my class played my wife. I didn’t remember, but he told me years later that the teacher didn’t want to let him play a woman. Apparently, I refused to accept this. “If I can play a man,” I demanded. “Why can’t he play a woman?” The unarguable logic won the day. He said he felt so happy playing that role and that it was an important moment for him in expressing his identity.

I grew up in the 80s and 90s when deep focus on grammar was taken out of the UK curriculum. I was, let’s say, an imaginative speller. One of my bosses would later tell me, “I know when you have left me a note because of your quirky spelling.” For years I enjoyed this quirk, believing, maybe correctly, that it made me more creative. Then, when writing became my profession, typos and a less than clear grasp of grammar rules felt like an obvious disadvantage. I wrote instinctively but never quite trusted that I wasn’t breaking important rules. It made me insecure. I paid more attention, learnt the rules and then broke them with confidence :)

Anyway, I digress….back to the school days.

In my first year at secondary school, I submitted a twelve-page story as my English homework. I think it was about a door to a secret world. I was sure the teacher would love it and I was so proud of it. I eagerly awaited the feedback but when I turned to it, it read simply, ‘don’t write such long stories.’

Photo by Eugenio Mazzone on Unsplash

I was crushed. I didn’t understand that the teacher was just overworked and underpaid. I reduced myself, internalised the idea that I was a bad writer, lost confidence. I have actually been a pretty succinct writer since then, finding ways to say a lot in few words. I guess that is probably one positive that came from that feedback.

A few years later, still at secondary school, I wrote something from the POV of a man playing Santa Claus in a shopping center at Christmas. Without me knowing, my English teacher (a different one, whose name I can’t remember, sadly) entered it into a competition without telling me. I came third and won a £5 book token. I was surprised and delighted. The feeling that I might actually be able to write came back. That same teacher introduced me to Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, whose names I noted down keenly when she shared her favourite authors with the class. Their stories would later play a key role in my choice to move to Latin America.

Then, somewhere along the line I stopped writing fiction. Instead, I wrote academic essays. I was told often throughout my degree, my masters and into the PhD that I never finished, that I wrote too much like a journalist. I refused to use academic jargon, I wanted to write to those beyond the ivory tower. Then in my travel writing career, I was often too academic in my writing. I was hindered (though sometimes helped too) by the meticulousness of academic training, of hating click bait/hyperbole, of over-verifying things, not wanting to make big claims, or any claims at all.

When I finally returned to fiction in 2012, my academic training played into my first novel. Historical fiction. Always making sure my facts were correct, wondering how far I could veer from the truth. What even is the truth? Whose version of the truth was it? What was my own lens bias? How much research was enough? Am I the right person to write this? Who is? Essentially the same questions were coming back around. Can Christopher Columbus be played by a 10-year-old girl with a chubby dimpled face and a blond bob? Can his wife be played by a 10-year-old boy? If it’s fiction do we get to just create? This questioning helped and hindered and stopped me writing often.

My second novel pulls on my travel writing.  Observations, descriptions and a sense of place are hugely important to the story. Mexico City is a character in his own right (I say his because Mexico City has a deeply masculine energy to me).

The third…well let’s just say it delves into some themes that are found throughout most of my fiction; family, motherhood and all the things unsaid and that secret door might even play a role.

I am not sure why I share all this other than I was called to. It was the story that came through me as I walked on the beach on Monday morning. I think what I want to say is that we all have our own personal writing histories that lead us to be the writers we are right now. Sometimes it can be helpful to look at the role writing (and reading) has played in our lives, where we have been hindered, where we have been helped, which voices ring the loudest, what stories we have always been driven to tell, what questions we are always asking. Where have you bucked trends, where have you towed the line? What happened in each case? Our own writing histories may be as varied as the stories we tell and within them we may find nuggets that drive us forward.

What are some of the pivotal moments of your writing history? I would so love to hear. Is there a teacher who spurred you on or crushed your confidence? How has it altered you as a writer? What book changed your life? If you feel called, please share in the comments, I would love to hear.

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Mentoring

I delight in mentoring writers. There is something truly special about watching the writers I work with grow in confidence, rebuild their writing muscles and quieten that inner voice that tells them they can’t write.

I received this beautiful testimonial from a client:

“[Susannah] questioned me about my feelings and motivations, and helped me see what was really energizing me and what my personal connection to my work was. Then she suggested writing techniques to help me open up my thinking about my subject. I ran with those, and I began to feel the oxygen flow into my work and my aspirations for it. Sooner than I could have imagined my labor of love has gained its wings and been shared with others (in publication.)” J.P. Oregon, USA.

Writing is magic and I truly believe that in writing we are trying to answers the questions we have about life on the page. I am so grateful when I can be a conduit in guiding my clients back to their inner storyteller.

If you would like support with your writing, please get in touch or book in for a free twenty minute consultation, to see if I am the right person to help you.

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