I declare I’ve made it as a writer. I’ve reached the zenith of my celestial writing sphere. The light at the end of my writing tunnel.
Let me start from the beginning.
8 years old: I plunged headfirst into my first serious writing gig. I started my own sports magazine creatively called “SportsWorld”. On a weekly basis, I produced a 5-6 page publication with standard fare: a fictional sport-related story, a profile of a random sportsperson, a crossword, a joke (which may or may not have been sport-related), and recent results, of my favourite teams from my favourite sports but no-one else.
My printing press was a slow, dot-matrix printer, complete with computer paper with the holes running down both sides (remember that?). There was no Internet or digital cameras and my budget (pocket-money) of $2 a week simply didn’t allow me to hire a graphic designer, so no photos or images. So that was my magazine. To further enhance my prospects of fame and fortune, I sold it for 50 cents every week.
After three weeks, 100% of my readership (i.e. my mother) cancelled her subscription and the magazine and printing press shut down. It was a sombre time for everyone involved.
17 years old: I entered the stereotypical teenage world of darkness, doom, angst and gloom. Sappy poetry, and depressing short stories were my thing. I decided that being able to write was based on bad stuff happening – it seemed easy to pour that out onto paper. But alas, like my failed attempt to get into the world of sports journalism, this too only lasted a short period.
Early 20’s: I’d matured from my teen years and headed for the fame of a best-seller. I wanted to write a novel. I researched locations and languages, and created characters, relationships and back stories. Every attempted novel lasted barely 3 pages.
Late 20’s: I was confined to University essays, case studies and reports.
Early 30’s: 2014, and my writing moved from the practical and back into the realm of hobby. This time it was opinion pieces and lists, loosely based on the topics from those University studies (see here)
And now here I am. So why the declaration that I’ve made it as a writer?
Because I finally feel like a writer. I’ve found my niche. I wake up every morning and want to write. Whether it’s something big or small, or whether I’m simply listing future topics to explore, I finally feel as though writing has a place within me for good. It’s not about the quality of my writing. I’m not going to churn out a best-selling novel or start writing popular opinion pieces for a newspaper.
But now, I have the confidence to write whatever I want, whenever I want. I’m happy to share it with anyone and everyone, and for the most part, I’m connecting with people.
And maybe, just maybe, the great historical sports magazine that was SportsWorld might re-emerge down the track. For one last issue.
How do you feel as a writer? Do you think you’ve made it? If not, how will you get there?