Making it as a writer

When the finish line keeps moving

Last week, I travelled down to Newcastle for a trustee meeting for Mslexia Magazine, which was held in the delightful Seven Stories National Centre for Children’s Books. I’ve been a trustee for two years now, and this was my first time meeting my fellow trustees in person, and it was special for that. I love zoom and remote access, I couldn’t do my job without it, but I do love the exchange of molecules, and I find such a deeper bond is possible when I can be present in person.

Having some fun before the trustee meeting

We had a wonderful time, I’m so grateful to have been asked to be a trustee: it’s been a learning curve, and I’m privileged to help to guide and support a publication which seeks to uplift women who write – which is so important particularly to disabled women who face multiple barriers in developing their writing. I know all too well how long it takes to ‘make it’ as a writer.

Fifteen years ago, when I was freshly graduated from an honours in biomedicine, I knew it wasn’t to be. Science had to be creative for me. Connected to art, to nature… to wonder. I decided about two days after I left university that I wanted to try and write and illustrate children’s books instead. Pretty big swing, right? I’d always loved them, I still haven’t grown out of reading them, and I think they are the most wonderful pieces of literature in the world. And arguably, the most impactful (what a gift, to shape early mindsets and core beliefs about the self and the world).

I did not know what I was doing, though. I set to slinging the biggest haul of picture books I could manage from my local library every day back to my flat, where I’d pour over their tattered, sticky wee pages, sussing out page layout, story arc, page-counts, style and flow. Rhythm. At some point I committed to giving myself three years to ‘make it’.

My (now) husband and I moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh at this time, and a world of books blossomed at my doorstep. I met real authors and illustrators and I learned from them. I saw that it was possible.

For Christmas that year, my husband gifted me the 2009 Children’s Writer’s and Artist’s Yearbook, with a bolstering new author’s letter from Debi Gliori. ‘Take heart’, she told me, ‘it can be done’. I cried when I opened the parcel, and my husband told me firmly how much he believed in me, how he just knew I would make it.

He also took me down to Newcastle to visit a very magical museum of children’s books, which I had no idea existed, where we spent hours marvelling at the amazing work of my heroes. Planting seeds.

We’ve returned several times since, to see new exhibitions, to keep the dream alive, though I’ve taken a meandering path through poetry, memoir and fiction for young adults (so far): after a long road of interning, bookselling, freelancing and consulting.

Last week was the first time that I was there by invitation, because of the work I do. I stood in front of the magical drawings of Judith Kerr, hero of my own childhood, and I thanked her for showing me the way. If I hadn’t been madly in love with children’s books like the ones she created, I would never have embarked on this winding path to where I am now.

Looking back

A portfolio writer; with an access guide published by Penguin Random House, and supported by many more publishers and literature organisations, and just this year, an agent who is my absolute dream cheerleader, and who holds the same values close to her heart as I do.

Finally on the cusp of something ‘more’ with my creative writing. A whole other adventure to look forward to in the years to come.

Fifteen years and only just getting started could feel like a failure – but it’s been worth every bend in the river, every ableist attitude, every barrier, to be here on the cusp.

I tell the luminous paintings on these walls that I’m proud I stuck it out this long, kept believing, against the odds. Despite shitty experiences – the situations where I almost gave up – somewhere deep down inside of me, a little star-seed kept burning.

And now I’m privileged to be giving it back – always the dream. If I can make it easier for those like me, who travel behind me, I absolutely will.

I sit in the magical, stately author chair, and chat with the lovely in-house storyteller about the kind of events I dream of doing with neurodivergent young adults who are carers, or who have mental health issues, or who just are trying to find their identity and place in the world. I feel like I’m speaking spells under the stars and twinkle lights, on the eve of Halloween, little bats and ghosts dancing trails above my head.

Fifteen years later, I am here. I hope I’m making a difference.

I hope I can one day shine as bright for someone else as Judith did for me.

Are you always chasing the finish line? How do you celebrate the little victories? I’d love to hear from you in the comments xx