I have no idea really. I’m computer illiterate and totally phased by this whole setting up a blog page thing. I have very little idea about what I’m doing. In fact, I’m terrified. What am I so scared of? Everything at the moment.
I’m a mother of a daughter and son who are leaving the nest. I’m on the rapid downhill to fifty. I’ve spent twenty years bringing up a family, looking after my husband, home educating said children and keeping the house together. I haven’t had a ‘proper job’ in all that time, although I have worked pretty hard for free. My career was side-tracked long ago when I decided to be a full-time mother and home educator. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it. I loved every minute. It was the best decision I ever made and I was good at it. I’m proud of what my children have achieved through my guidance. They are intelligent, independent individuals with a strong sense of who they are. We have all learned so much from the experience and are a close, loving family because of it. But where do I go from here? Who am I now? What do I want? That’s when the fear kicks in.
Fear of what? So many things. My failure, my success, not being good enough, not being capable, not having any ability or skills. I guess when you’ve put so much time into other people, you lose a bit of yourself. I need to rediscover me, what I am, what I’m capable of, what I want. I know some things I don’t want. I don’t want a job that sets my life in boring routine. I don’t want to work full-time. I’ve loved the freedom of home educating where we threw out the timetable and every day could be different.
I know some things I want. I want time to spend with my family. I want time to be on my, very small, smallholding with my animals. I want to be creative, do things I enjoy, for myself and possibly others. A little extra income would be helpful so I can do those things. I want to have a go at writing a novel.
There, I’ve said it. I have ambitions to be a writer. Like many other people, I have secretly scribbled away in notebooks for many years, all my life really. I have rejected these scribblings with disgust and consigned everything I’ve ever written to the bin. Like many other people, I am riddled with self-doubt. The absolute terror that everything I write is complete rubbish and unworthy for other eyes. Well, that has to stop. I’ve decided this is an opportunity for a fresh start.
I’m at a crossroads in my life. Change has been thrust upon me. I knew the day would come when my kids would move on. It has happened. I don’t like it. I am afraid. Call it a midlife crisis, call it an unrealistic fantasy, call it ridiculous but I am going to summon up all my courage and try, really try, to get this novel written. Somewhere inside me is a book, a story to be told. My youthful creativity and confidence can return. Those early dreams, lost in motherhood and everyday living, can become a reality.
So, I’m starting this blog. Without a clue how to do so. People have suggested it might help. It might encourage me to write. It might make me accountable. If I announce here to the world that I’m a writer and I’m writing a novel, then perhaps I’ll do the work, I’ll make it happen, I’ll develop some faith in myself.
I can do this.