Four Lessons I’ve learned whilst writing.

The Daily Post – Faceless 

My alternative title would be “Writing Under a Pseudonym Part 2”. Since this is not the first time that I have written about this subject. When I first began my blogging journey almost three years ago. I decided that I would not write under my own name back then.

I’d figured that since the subjects I could write about, might come out of nowhere and catch me by surprise. It would be better to keep some form of anonymity in case it didn’t work out. As part of my own healing process, I thought that since it was going to help me get over trauma in my life, by writing about the things that have affected me.  It doesn’t always do to be so frank. I could hide behind the other persona somewhat.
I thought about the fact that, since at the time I was suffering with very low self-esteem that if I wasn’t any good at it, then it would simply vanish into thin air. I could put the whole thing away, shut it down if I wanted to and chalk it down to experience and it wouldn’t jeopardise any future career prospects.  I have always been rather too concerned about what others think and it had often held me back.

I have learned some valuable lessons in the past few years doing this.
In no particular order…
I have learned that if you write under an assumed name, then sometimes it encourages you to be the person you hope to become.
1. If you mess it up along the way, then you aren’t called to account as such.
2. I have always been fairly careful in what I publish in that I do not want it to be held against me later. I set myself a rule that I would try to steer clear of bad language even when I am upset or angry about a subject. If you have to write when you are feeling like that, then don’t publish it for all to see, as you may feel differently later.
3. You can be transparent about all kind of things whilst hiding behind your assumed name.
4. It can be very difficult to promote yourself as a writer when you are someone else.  I still haven’t got past this last hurdle. I wrote a book you see, but how do you promote your self-published work when only a handful of people know who you are. If you go out there saying you are this new person, what happens if someone recognises you?

As time has gone on, I have wanted to write more and more under my real name though. To bring the writer within out into the open. I have gained more confidence in my ability to write. It was always something that I had out to the back of my mind, thought about pursuing on several occasions over the years,  but not really knowing where to begin. It was merely one of those skills that became incorporated into the repertoire of my working life.  I wrote good letters for my employers, could word adverts and job descriptions and was also thorough when it came to proofreading as well.   I enjoyed such aspects of my work.

Sure I am not everyone’s cup of tea. My style of poetry does not suit everyone and can sometimes seem like more of the same even to me if I revisit a subject. But there are times when it gives me the freedom to express myself in a different way to the norm, to say what is really on my mind.
I think about the many occasions where I have been going through whatever life has decided to throw in my direction.  I have thought about how I dealt with things and how I got through the hard times and it is there in the background, a constant.  I have poems I wrote in my young adult life, which I found in some papers a couple of years ago. There are bits and pieces, snippets of writing, a storyline which did not get continued which I began many years ago.  My own unfinished symphony. If I have been upset or confused about something in my life, it has always helped to write it down, see it in black and white in front of me, to get my head around it. I am not just a poet though. I write about all kinds of things.
Years ago, I found that a way to deal with things that I felt powerless about was to write a letter to whoever had upset or wronged me. Telling them exactly how I felt about the situation.  These were never meant to be read by the person and often written in the heat of the moment. They were usually burned, offered up to the universe to deal with in whatever way it saw fit. But it certainly helped me and as a consequence, once I had done so, I could let it go and move on. I do not hold grudges, but I rarely forget the lesson I have learned from an experience.

Latterly these past three years I have been writing more and more poetry. I had to find an outlet for it which is how the first blog came about. I had so many poems I didn’t know what to do with them, I wondered if others might like to read them. But I didn’t know where to start. Some people suggested I write a book, but I didn’t have the confidence or the know how to begin it. So I decided to publish it via a blog instead, who knows I might get some followers and later on if it was well received I might be able to write a book.

The poems came thick and fast. I wrote night and day, sometimes I would write ten in a night and sleep half the day. It was like a tap I could not turn off. I kept notebooks everywhere, made voice memos of subjects if I could not write it there and then, such as when I was out walking the dog, or had been driving in the car, I would pull over to record a thought of lines of this and that that I could refer to later. I kept a notebook in the bathroom, often clambering out of the shower or waking in the night when inspiration would hit with a couple of lines that would then turn into something quite magical. My fiance was concerned, as it seemed to take me over. That may seem like odd behaviour, however I have found out from other writers, this is perfectly normal! Within a few months I had written over 100 poems. I decided that was the goal that I would reach before publishing my book.

I still did not know how to go about it, but a friend also self-published and gave me some good advice about Amazon Kindle publishing.  I decided to take the leap. I selected about 60 poems from the 100 and wrote a little book of poetry.  My failing in all of this and lesson I  learned was that to get book sales, you have to promote yourself. I was not ready to get out there and do this at all. To take my work to a publisher for them to decide that it wasn’t what they were looking for. I didn’t think that I could handle any more criticism at that time. I was my harshest critic. Listening to the inner voice telling me that I wasn’t good enough was crippling me. But nevertheless, I put the book out there and there it remains, largely undiscovered.

But I haven’t given up. I thought about a second book and continued to write my poems, thinking that when I reached 200 then I would select again and publish another which had a title and a cover all ready to go. I also considered a third title.  I have now written over three hundred poems and have yet to select for the second book.  I figured that I was too busy writing them to stop and when self-doubt creeps in, I think what is the point when I did not get good sales of the first one. So some get published on the blog.  Others are put into cards for special occasions for loved ones.  My oldest friend said that I should write card poetry for someone like Clintons, but I feel that it would lack the personal touch.

I would like to use my skills as a writer more. I’ve been putting reviews on Trip Advisor for a couple of years now and thoroughly enjoy writing about my travels. I would love to travel extensively and write about it all. I love taking photographs and include many of them in the other blog that I write.

I had intended that this website would include more of my writing this year. It has been a tough one again and although I had thought that I was ready to unleash myself upon the world as a writer but it has been halted by family tragedy. I lost my brother suddenly in the summer and have had family responsibilities to carry out since then, so my writing has taken a back seat.  But there is hope still. I wrote several poems when he passed away. Although I published some on the other blog, I read one particular one out at his funeral, it was so important to me to do this for him. I am not a confident person and I have never been a public speaker. I do not crave the spotlight in any way, rather I tend to shy away from it. It wasn’t easy to be the first to get up and speak and to read something that I’d written in public. There were around 400 people who attended that day and heard it. Many came up to me later and told me that they were impressed by my poetry and that I should write more and publish it. So it showed me that I am on the right track after all.  What gave me a sense of pride was to hear from some of his friends later that my brother had been proud of my writing and often spoke about it. I had no idea, but I knew that he firmly believed we should both follow our dreams.

What I know now is that whatever direction my working life takes from here on in, I would like to continue to strengthen and use these writing skills.

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