What’s really stopping us from starting?

I call it ‘preparation’, my husband calls it ‘faffing.’ But whatever you call it, I think you’ll know what I mean. It’s the tidying, the cushion-plumping, the decluttering, the mopping of floors, another load of washing in, another load of washing out, arranging the magazines, re-arranging them again. The coffee making, the tea making, the chattering with the neighbour. In short, the “I’ll just do this before…. blank.” 

For me, my blank is sitting down to Book no 3. The Secrets of the Supper Club is there, waiting, ready to be re-jigged, rewritten and reshaped, all ready for bookshelves next year. 

Only, there’s just always something else. In my defence, there has always been something else, just as I am sure is the same for you. For me it’s been new schools, new uniforms, new walks to school, new walks home. And just as we waved our teary goodbyes, they were back again, accompanied by those new back-to-school bugs. More plumping of cushions, more washing in, more washing out. More coffee was needed, even Cookie our dog looked ready for a holiday again, and it was only the first week back. 

But then this week, the house was clear and there wasn’t something else. The cushions were plumped, the washing was done (well, to a point), sleep had been had. So, I sat down ready to go. And then I got up again. 

Multiply this by at least ten times (though honestly more) and I knew something was wrong.

It was there. No matter how much I denied, or pretended, or distracted myself on Instagram. There was a wall, a block, something, I didn’t know what for sure. All I knew was my new page and mind stayed blank. 

It was once again, mid-jog/shuffle on The Downs in Bristol where I found my answer. This time thanks to the brilliant Dear Gabby podcast (her thoughts about the universe is a whole other blog.) But she was interviewing the marketing expert Amy Porterfield. They were speaking openly and honestly about what stops people from carrying on, and then they said the word. 

Overwhelm. 

It struck a chord so loud I think my running partner, Cookie the dog, heard it too. 

In truth, I was completely overwhelmed. 

At the moment The Secrets of the Supper Club is 135, 232 words long. It should be 80,000, 90,000 tops. I wrote it five years ago, before I had learned about story structure, acts and beats. I have four main characters I love – Audrey, Maggie, Stephanie and Gem, so killing your darlings, as the experts say, doesn’t feel like an option. 

It’s also the most rejected of my first three books, if this makes sense. I did get some kind comments, but also many more which were not so kind, brutal they felt at the time which I promise to share with you one day. Perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas to re-read them all before I started work. 

When I admitted this ‘overwhelm’ to my family, their faces looked confused. 

“But Mum,” my eight-year-old questioned with the joyous innocence which comes with this age, “you’ve already done two books, just do it again.” 

And there it was, our old friend fear. Could I? Could I really do it all again? In that moment I wasn’t sure I could.

So, I did what I find helps when I find myself like this, I started at the beginning. I went back to the notes and wisdoms which helped me put my first book in the world when I thought I never could.  

Think of one person, just one person, who you can imagine reading your work. Write for them, nobody else. Just one. 

Focus on the work, not the numbers. Focus on learning, trying, learning again, making it the best it can be. But keep your eye on that - not the numbers, not the likes, not the shares, just the work. The rest will come. 

One tiny step at a time, keep doing this and before you know it you’ll have your path. 

Turn down the noise.

Never be afraid to ask for help.

And the most important one - keep coming back to your goal. What do you want your work to do? What do you want it to achieve? 
For me, the answer to the last point is to create a world for people to escape to, one where they’ll find warmth and people they want to be with, and maybe if I really get it right, come away knowing something which may help them in their own lives. Or at least know they are absolutely not alone. 
Then, by coincidence, or not you may think, I had a message from a lady called Ann. 

I don’t know Ann, but she came across my work through a mutual friend. She told me she had struggle to read a book since her twin brother died three years ago, she is a carer for her dad and works full-time for the NHS. She had read both The Pink Coffee Shop and The Juggle, they had fitted in with her busy life and now she was very much looking forward to my next book. 

Now, when the fear and overwhelm takes hold it’s very easy to let the other voices come in. Your friends who tell you lovely things about your books are just being kind. And the people who have left reviews who you don’t know, well they’re just being kind too. 

But I couldn’t ignore Ann. 

So, I sat back at my desk, turned down the noise (which I realised was louder than the whirring washing machine) and started at Chapter One. I booked an appointment with my book editor and said I needed help. 

But most of all I remembered the biggest lesson of all. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, your voice is the only one you need to listen to (with the exception of maybe Ann’s). 

x