My writing journey – despite a confidence deficit
Kimberley, the city of my birth has always been dry, dusty and flat. Known for its man-made hole and arid landscape, it once mirrored any writing aspirations and confidence in my ability I might have been harbouring.
Inherently shy, this curious introvert was always different, the proverbial square peg in a round hole. To mitigate the feelings and to fit in, I always sought to do things the “right” way. It made me feel safe, yet inauthentic – my inner quirkiness always seemed to betray me.
Creatives of colour
Unlike some of my peers, who instinctively knew what they wanted to do with their lives, it was always vague to me. My parents were professionals, but their careers didn’t appeal to me either. I knew what I didn’t want to be but was terrified about what dwelt within. A woman of colour in South Africa in the early 90s meant that I did not have role models to emulate.
I did not see other creatives of colour and I certainly did not see myself as a creative. I believed that the amazing jobs could only be done by a selected few. They were the ones that were snapping away with their cameras, the ones who wrote books and certainly the journalists I saw on television.
In the interim, a new age dawned with Nelson Mandela at the helm and I moved to a new city, but the feelings of not being good enough persisted. Here, bustling creatives drew my attention. I was captivated by their arty personas and marvelled at those with blue hair. I was besotted, but I knew I could never be one of these rather fabulous people.
Doing the “right” thing
The inner nerd went on to do the “right” thing and attained a general finance diploma. Big mistake! I suppose everything happens for a reason, but this period of my life has always left me baffled. It was a colossal waste of time and I never really fit into the surroundings.
I failed at my first career. No news there. It wasn’t for me but severely wrecked my confidence. To heal, I took on customer service work and jobs that didn’t challenge my flagging self-esteem. By now both my parents had had cancer – twice! I was still in the doldrums and time was ticking.
Next stop on my journey: London. I loved the oddballs in this “town”. I felt emancipated and alive. Energised by the people buzzing in London Liverpool Street station and in stimuli overload, I began to dream. The bookshops, the rarefied atmosphere and the erudite people enthralled this small-town girl. Somehow, inside I started to voice that I wanted to write something someday.
Rarefied London
Next stop on my journey: London. I loved the oddballs in this “town”. I felt emancipated and alive. Energised by the people buzzing in London Liverpool Street station and in stimuli overload, I began to dream. The bookshops, the rarefied atmosphere and the erudite people enthralled this small-town girl. Somehow, inside I started to voice that I wanted to write something someday.
An attempt to visit the offices of a famous news network ended with me in eyeshot of the building. The fear was like a force that stopped me in my tracks – what if they would just know that I was the ultimate fraud – how dare I? I felt exposed, that somehow someone would see my dream and tell me that I wasn’t good enough.
At this time, a friend worked at another news agency. One day, I witnessed a part of a broadcast from this network’s offices. Even though I maintained composure outwardly, internally I was doing joy gymnastics. I came back to South Africa and enrolled for a degree.
On this journey of discovery, my meandering path led me to Julia Cameron’s books with Walking in this World of singular importance. I also read some of the classics of English literature in my endeavour to grow and grasp the nuances of the English language.
Writing challenge
Serendipitously, a prize won in a competition enabled me to attend a creativity workshop with a writer who passionately promotes writing one’s own story. It was set in motion after a friend had gifted me tickets to an event where the writer was due to speak. As life would have it, I found myself sitting next to said writer. I knew that this mattered …
In addition, I also took on a writing challenge …
And I started a blog that I was too afraid to share with the world and maintained privacy settings. I felt like I was now too old to follow the traditional journalist/writer route. In truth, once again, there was going to be nothing ordinary about me.
During a particularly bleak time, a friend cajoled me into writing something for a local media outlet. Curled up on my bed in discouragement, I decided to heed the call. I wrote about another great passion in my life: tennis. Thousands of people read it and most of the comments were positive. It was the same friend who had first encouraged me to go to London and get to know myself better.
I had to go the internship route in my late thirties and was earning very little. The ebb of one of the lowest points in my life continued and being needy was the norm when this self-same friend asked me to edit a book she was writing.
It forced me to delve into editing and proofreading, other spheres of interest. I took it on and it stood me in good stead for the next assignment. I was employed as an editorial assistant in a creative industry soon thereafter. My skills were honed by a terrific editor and writer, and where I was privileged to write some articles and features.
Fears persist, I press on
The fears persist. I have to fight when fear threatens to engulf my soul or I find myself mired in despair. I must proceed on this exhilarating path; savour every step, enjoy the creative life and treasure the people who shape me.
The individuals you surround yourself with; the dream ever goading and the soft whisper in your heart – now these set one on a path to fulfil your destiny. In my experience, this has proven expedient. The ultimate destination is a place where words of majesty have been crafted with love to convey a message befitting the heavenly realm.
For now, I press on with the course that lies ahead uncharted. And it scares me – but looking back at this piece of writing penned with love years ago, I am inspired to keep going – moving in the direction of my dreams.
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