My brother sent me an email the other day.
“I know you’re busy with the Quiet store but remember you are a writer. Don’t forget that!”
I guess I need to explain.
I am a writer. I always will be. It’s what I have always wanted to do. I dreamt of writing a book. Last year, that dream became a reality. But that doesn’t mean it just ends there.
As well as writing a book, I’ve wanted to do lots of things. Hundreds of things. Open a cute cafe. Take an interiors design course. Retrain as a graphic designer. Learn how to do lettering. Be creative.
A lot of those things, I just can’t do. I’m not creative in the diy sense of the word. But I can put things together, aesthetically, just in the same way that I can put words together to weigh them with meaning.
You can’t do all the things in the world that you dream of. But you can do some of them. I’m trying to do a few things at the same time, that’s all. Write, and curate beautiful things in a small shop. I don’t see them as so incompatible. I’m lots of things. You can be lots of things. A writer, a mother, a wife. A sister, a daughter, a business owner.
I am still writing. I haven’t thrown my experience away. This year, I’ve produced five to six short stories that, sure, need working on, but are stories nonetheless. I’m not giving up on what some call “writing talent.” Earlier this year, I took a Faber Academy creative writing course to tackle the techniques of aspects I’ve struggled with. Within the next two years, I hope to have enough material to apply for their novel writing course. But right now, I don’t have those ideas nailed. I need to do something else in order to keep creative. That’s sort of what the Quiet store is about, too. It’s my way of being creative. And then, the writing will come. And come.