One of my ‘to dos’ this year was to finally read a physical book. That sounds like such a nothing goal, I realise, but carving out that kind of focused time felt impossible - before getting to the question of whether I actually had the attention span anymore.

I used to be a voracious reader. I would read walking to work. When I commuted I had loads of time to read and before I had my daughter I remember reading a whole series over the summer. I loved to read.. but then I discovered audio books. Someone could read to me while I did other things? I never looked back.

Unfortunately, I discovered that I really only enjoyed listening to autobiographies and self help, so unintentionally, over the past decade, I phased out fiction. There were a couple that slipped through, mostly because the voice actors were fantastic, or they were performed in the style of a play but I’d say 90% of my adult reading has been non-fiction.

A couple of years ago I decided I wanted to write a book of my own. I’d written one once before, under the guidance of a publisher but that was self-help and an extension of what I was already doing online. I wanted to challenge myself to write a mystery. I pride myself on pattern recognition and can usually guess a whodunnit 10 minutes in but a new show (only murders in the building) sparked something. Each season I would take copious notes and come up with elaborate ideas that were almost never the actual murder. I started to wonder if I had the imaginative chops to create a story from scratch.

Unfortunately, my ADHD will only allow me to create when the stars align and so that idea sat on the back burner until last September. I was at work and I cannot tell you what inspired me but the entire story played out in my mind.

Small town America..

A town called Magic (named for its lake) is a tourist trap because of the rumoured supernatural occurrences

Main character works in a curio shop selling crystals and incense to travellers but is, herself, a sceptic

Her colleague is an older woman who claims to be a witch.

She’s gifted a crystal by this colleague and things start to happen .. she almost believes that she’s controlling events - and then her boyfriend dies and she’s the main suspect

Name - “murder by magic”

I rushed out at lunch to buy a notebook (because of course) and write out as many details as I could before I lost them. I thought, ‘the moment I get home I will start writing’.. and then.. I didn’t. I told people about my idea and each time I added a little extra flare to the story, a twist or turn, an unexpected character, an evil twin?? But that, ‘okay - now write it’ never came.

It’s frustrating to explain this block I have in my brain to people who don’t have it. It’s the same thing that has me working out in jeans because I have to reduce the number of steps between me and doing the thing once the impetus strikes.

A huge block I’ve had is that I don’t feel smart enough to write a book. My writing structure is informal, at best, and I have a built-in audience, some of whom will jump at a chance to criticise. I received the expected negative reviews when I wrote my first book but they were easy to dismiss because it felt like a bound version of my blog. I was used to those trolls. I also had an editor. This time around I’d be going it alone and my slapdash typing errors would only have me to catch them.

I started this substack to force me to practice writing but I only ever write in my conversational ‘blog’ style so.. I’ve learned nothing. Do I take a class? Is that a thing? Creative writing? That feels like a retired divorcee hobby from a Nancy Meyers movie, doesn’t it? ‘Self indulgent’, I imagine they’d say. I have enough on already. I shouldn’t be writing a flipping book!

And I hadn’t read a book in 10 years!! How could I write my own?

So back to that goal. I finally finished the book. I had started reading a fantasy novel. I didn’t want to revert to the rom com of my youth so thought, ‘these are popular.. I’ll give it a go.’ - what a slog. I abandoned it 70% in, after 8 months. I really thought I’d lost the skill entirely but I ended up finishing the second book, ‘The Husbands’ by Holly Gramazio, in 6 weeks. Two lessons to be had from that.

* Don’t force it, some things just aren’t for you.

* Life’s too short to read bad books.

While I was on a roll, I picked out one of the murder mysteries I bought when I was feeling positive I’d breeze through the first. ‘Buried in a Good Book’ by Tamara Berry. By the end of the first chapter, that itch came back. Maybe it was the mystery, maybe it was her easy writing style, maybe it was that the setting felt so similar to the idea I’d had? Who cares? I spent that evening really pinning down my outline, my character descriptions, casting them to give me a visual in my mind and creating pinterest boards to flesh out the world I was creating.

Whether this book will ever be written remains to be seen (and if I ever publish, it may well be under the cover of darkness) but my little self-improvement goals feel like they’re all pushing my towards a larger, better me. I know I keep banging on about it but the whole point of this substack was to record my steps to starting my next decade feeling like my best possible self and this past week has really felt like big steps.

I’ve been taking guilt-free time for myself on projects around the house and hobbies that I can’t monetise. I’m all about that hustle culture but there has to be a balance where you’re enjoying the hustle you’re in and not only working towards an imaginary future. I feel like I’m finding that balance and things like reading don’t feel selfish. As the evil Alan Rickman suggested in the saddest movie of all time, Love Actually, I’m continuing my emotional education.

* SIDE NOTE. Should I post some sample chapters here, if I actually get to writing this thing?

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