maria isabel singh

Maybe these posts under this category will be something monthly. If i’m being honest, I really just thought of that idea as I write this opening paragraph. The month of November was something paramount to my life. Not because there was any major change, but rather because it was the first time I endeavored on something so critical pertaining to my dormant passion of stories and books: writing my own.

Let’s just say I started writing maybe 10 years ago. I had the best idea; I felt it in my bones and I knew just as I know the layout of my home, that what I had was something great…if it could only get done.

Suffice to say, it did not get done and I only have scraps of what now has become so popular in the book world. If you asked me a few years ago, I would blame it on heartbreak, on the turmoils of life, but really–I only had myself to blame. And that’s a hard truth to swallow. Finally, years later, I endeavored on the dreaded, overwhelming NanoWrimo.

You see, I suck at creating deadlines for myself, or really finding any motivation to do anything in this facade of infinite time. It’s perilous to tread on the wire of “I have time” when, in reality, life could be cut short any second. That, too, is a hard truth to swallow. And before you ask, I am not a morbid person at all. I’m actually…optimistic.

The process was grueling and torturous, but this journey was for me. Yes, I’d love to get traditionally published and I’m not knocking my self-published cowriters. But writing a book, writing a story, was for me. I had to prove that I could commit to something. That is in and of itself an accomplishment.

So, did I finish? I am proud to say that what started out as an idea on a morning run materialized into a novel. It is bare-boned and it is messy. But it is there.

Why I had to fall in love with writing and stories and books, I have no idea. However, if there’s one thing I learned, it’s to open yourself up to the smallest of moments. Like the beginning of this post, those moments just may contain a map of sorts. You may not know where it leads, you may not even know what the treasure is that it leads to.

But when all is said and done, the beauty is that you would have stepped into a world that can only be found in the book of your life.

If I can do it, so can you.

Love,

M.I.S