Tag Archives: writing

I cried for 48 hours (or more) after I published my book

The critics inside of me are telling me to stop whining and excuse myself constantly. They are telling me that what I love to do and feel alive doing is useless, worthless and a waste of time. The insecurity inside of me are telling me to stop ask for peoples time – you are not good enough, they say.

Understanding the world and myself is one of my greatest interests. I have always been one of those people who respond “but why” to every answer I get. I want to go deeper and not settle so easily. I also love the magic of experiencing things I simply can’t explain and where the restless “but why” is exchanged with a fascinated “how the fuck…” My interest in writing comes from a combination of wanting to understand the why but also to express the lack of understanding.

What started off as a psychology assignment called “write about your life” turned into a dream about…a life. The relieving and revealing experience of simply trying to explain to a blank paper what is going on in your mind and body soon became my therapy and I felt like many people would be able to relate and maybe feel less alone on their own journey if I shared my experience with eating disorders, alcohol abuse and an overall lack of self-love.

The lead up

It had been a big week and my hormones were clearly supporting my emotional ride down towards that fear of how many people that wouldn’t read it, or even scarier; how many people that wouldn’t like it. I thought I was prepared for this. I wasn’t.

I mean, I had self published this book and if you have done that you might know that feeling of seeing yourself as a somewhat “fake-author”, no matter how passionate you are about writing. But I had worked so damn hard on this book, I knew that the book wasn’t fake, the work I had put in wasn’t fake – still I couldn’t separate myself from that feeling. Every word had come from my heart and bones – but right now I hated it.

Seeing it on the Amazon website with one review (from my partner) I felt the self-doubt just overflowing my body. My alibies for being a shit-fake writer was everything from; English is not my first language, nobody is ever going to find this book because it is self-published- to believing that I am too crazy and people will not be able to relate at all.

 

I mentioned earlier that it had been a big week, and it had. My caffeine consumption was through the roof even though I know it contributes to my PMS and I hadn’t prioritized sleeping. I basically hadn’t prioritized myself at all. Just this stupid book I’d ben working on since I was 17. Now I am 26 and it was finally time to click ‘publish’. I felt a little nauseous, my palms were sweating and I didn’t know if I was exited, scared or both.

The book isn’t stupid, I know that. It is actually pretty cool. It has a soul quite like mine; a mix of dark and light and a reverse-magnetic- will to spread love in this world. Not just by doing random acts of kindness, but through helping people find out for themselves how they can make their own life a little lighter, and at the same time also the world around them.

The only thing I could think of now was ”who the fuck am I to help people connect to their inner emotions?” I am sitting here, 24 hours after publishing the book on Amazon crying so much my partner had to shove me into an ice-cold shower to try and snap me out of my mental breakdown. Add on another 24 and I am out for a 10km run, still crying, sometimes so much I have to stop to be able to breathe. Who the hell am I to talk about love, health and helping young teenage girls to see their own self-worth?

 What happened next?

I watched some Netflix and felt sorry for myself, believing that I forever had lost my passion for writing. I drank some tea (chamomile mainly), cried a lot, felt like I was useless a lot, wondering if I ever would find motivation to do anything ever again, a lot. When I aimlessly scrolled through my Facebook feed I came across an interview with Ada Calhoun

( https://www.elephantjournal.com/2017/07/how-to-become-a-real-actual-successful-writer-how-to-fail-other-tips-with-ada-calhoun/ ).

In the interview she shares the ups and downs with the craft of writing and she made me realize that I am not the only one feeling like this after publishing something. In fact, it seems to be playing a big part in being a writer, or any type of creative person, to feel this vulnerable when sharing your work. Sure, I can probably learn how to deal with my publishing-anxiety to not scare my partner (and myself) to death every time I publish something in the future, but listening to Ada speak about writing made me understand that it might not be such a bad thing feeling like shit about this whole publishing thing after all – because it means that I care for this book. A lot.

Of course I am scared that it might fail me, and statistically it should, I mean, isn’t that what they all say? But I don’t like statistic – I like emotions, and deep inside, in my gut, I know that I have put in everything I mentally and physically could in this book, never have I worked harder on completing something and doing it properly. Never have I cared about something like I cared about this. And now when it is out there I stopped caring for it. Why?

I was too scared to care because if I care I might start to cry again, and I have cried and walked around all shriveled up (you know that cry-walk) for so long that another 24 hours later I completely pinched my neck in my morning stretch and probably need to wear tiger balm and a flannel scarf for another 48 hours. I cared so much I couldn´t care anymore. Whoa, all of this felt so good to say, and it actually gave me back the writer inside of me who I 48 hours ago didn’t know if I would ever see again.

That’s the beauty of writing, isn’t it? It helps to pick us up when nothing else can…

My shit writing is going to get better

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I know that my writing isn’t perfect in any way, except in my own way. I use the wrong words, my grammar is nowhere even close to perfect and there are a lot of things I could do better. Like going through my posts before I upload them to avoid printing mistakes, to name one. But I’m semi lazy and I lean back on the fact that this blog is mine, and I like imperfection. I embrace imperfection. I don’t care about grammar as long as I get the core message across. The reality is though, that other people do. I know so many grammar-polices out there who get physically frustrated when a sentence is a bit off, or when you add or forget an “s” somewhere. Who express hate to the miss-use of the language. Each to their own I say.

Some of my goals are to be able to write for a living, and create a book. Maybe two? And I realized, when I recently got the feedback on my writing that my shit-grammar actually is a bit of a problem if writing is what I’m aiming for, that I cant hide behind my open love for imperfection all my life. I love imperfection because it is easy and I don’t have to put in time to learn the rules of the English grammar. I thought for a couple of seconds after I received that feedback that maybe writing isn’t for me, but at least I tried. Then I stopped myself. Because I do love it – creating stories with words. I’m just too scared to fail and to lazy to learn. As most of you probably have realized by now; grammar wasn’t my favorite subject in school. I realized that if I want to keep writing and achieve my goals with writing as a profession I have some work to do, and I realized that I actually want to do it. I want to learn because I want to get better because in the end; I love to write, and I want to write.

Sometimes I like to take the easy way out, I don’t want to put in the hard work, but when it’s something that will bring me closer to my passion, why would I even consider not trying to get better?

Five minutes after I received the constructive feedback that hit my stomach like a space-stone and made me doubt my passion, I signed up for an English language semester at a university, because fuck it. Because why not?

Set backs and challenges are amazing in a way, because they make you re-consider if what you are doing, why you are doing it, and if what you are working towards actually is what you want to do with your life. It make you question your “why” and force you to either give up or leave the space of feeling sorry for yourself and take you into the space of “bring it on, I’m going to do what it takes to achieve what I want.” Ant that shift my friends, that’s kind of a cool feeling.

Why I love happiness

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When reading my posts, sometimes you might find me arrogant. I at least find myself arrogant.  Not in a vain, selfish way. I might seem arrogant in the way that I make things sound so easy. It’s just a choice yes? Well, most of the times I write about things that has happened, and about situations where I wish I could choose, or where I had the strength to choose more wisely. Happiness isn’t always an easy choice for me, it’s quite the opposite. That’s why I’m so fascinating with the subject. I love to write about it because it has always been a struggle for me to choose happiness. And that’s weird to say, because most people who know me knows me as the most happy person ever. But those who know me a bit deeper knows that I also struggle with anger, anxiety and depression.

I love the idea of the power of choice, and I keep investigating, keep learning about the subject so that the choice of happiness can come more natural than the choice of anger or sadness. I want to be a person who doesn’t se giving up as an option.

Usually in my nightmares I give up. I don’t fight the fight because I’m too scared of loosing towards someone other than myself. So I put an end to things instead. I search the power of choice so that I don’t see myself in that way. I know that I can be that person, I just have to commit, and this is how I’m committing. This is how I learn how not to give up, and how to find happiness and balance in life. But don’t think that I for once believe that it is just as simple as just choosing every time. I fail constantly. Today I used all the swearwords I had stored in my vocabulary, many times. I banged shit and was completely exhausted when I got home. The power of choice wasn’t anywhere on my radar then. But I keep getting better and better, and I am open and curious to learning more and more about how to advance and become a better person.

My anger management coach that I went to when I was 13 taught me to calmly count down from 13 to 0 when I got upset. Every time I did it I always started to cry when I got to 3. I’m fire. Explosive. Sometimes with love. That kind of love that has no end to it. That kind of love that just screams to get out. And sometimes I explode with anger. My anger used to be uncontrollable when I was younger. It was painful. I panicked. I did not know what to do. Same with the love though. My emotions has always been super extreme. Like I have a tropical paradise kept inside of me. Sometimes there is going to be hectic thunder because of all the heat and sunshine. To uncharge. To reload. To Recharge.

Writing is a way for me to try to understand myself. It’s a conversation I keep with my brain, a dialogue with me myself and I. I try to make reason with how I act and feel just so that I can learn and get to know myself better. The calmer me can advise the explosive side, and the scared voice can get comfort in the confident one.

To me happiness is one of the most interesting subjects, because so many things depend on it in life. If you can be happy to be sad, happy when you are angry, happy with your emotions whatever they are… that’s like the meaning of life. And happy to me doesn’t mean to be constantly giggly, it mean to have a peace of mind in every situation. Happy to me is to be grateful, curious and eager to live. When I’m happy I’m content and in charge of my life. And I write to figure out how I can maximise the feeling of being a leader in the life that I’m living.