MY WRITING PROCESS.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

Since the advanced age of five I was telling stories to my dolls and teddy bears (I only changed my target market recently and I try to tell stories to more grown up audience). I also played imaginary games with my angel friends (that helped a lot with my story making skills). I was the oldest child in the family and for a very long time I was the only child, so having imaginary friends was only understandable, I guess.

At this point I should probably mention that I’m not counting here my two oldest cousins for they weren’t very nice to me while growing up.

Anyway, the bottom line is that I wanted to be a writer for talkies. I tried writing at school both poetry and prose. However the support of my teachers (in my opinion the teachers should support their pupils, not make them feel like shit ‘cos of their own fucked up insecurities) was as big as my support for zombie theme movies. And anyone who knows me, even a bit, knows that I can’t stand them.

So, thanks to the “overwhelming” support of my teachers for whom (especially the one in the 6th grade who was a real bitch) my writing was too imaginative and too blah blah blah… As a result I stopped writing. The biggest problem my teachers had with me was that I was making spelling mistakes. It didn’t matter that I had something to say, a story to tell. The most important was the spelling, grammar and staying in the narrow mind convention of their writing styles. I was fucking dyslexic and you fucking knew that. You had me tested for that.

It took me years to pick myself up and pick up the pieces of my writing those soul eaters left me with. But at the end I did and little by little I started writing again. In the convention I liked the most & felt the most comfortable with.

At first my sentences or half sentences were as wobbly as baby’s first steps. But in time my confidence grew enough not too wobble and I didn’t need the approval of narrow-minded academic body that was dead to me as the zombies.

The only approval I needed came from within.

Now I write everywhere. I write in my head while I’m on a bus (I still love public transport, especially the one in London, where you can meet so many cool people and, granted, also a lot of not so cool, pushy people), I write while having a shower, I write while writing and talking to people. My mind and my soul just keep on writing. The more I write the more I want to write and the more I have to write.

The only thing I need to keep me going is a pot of hot tea or coffee. In fact I had a lovely purple pot for a while before I became a mom but Little O. broke it. I’m still waiting for the replacement and it’s been already 3 years so I guess I could be getting it any day now. Though perhaps he may need to get a job first or do what he said he was going to do for a living but I can’t share his idea with you as yet. After all it may not be so soon.

I also love the coffee shops in the early morning hours when life is just about to wake up. Of course since the divorce I avoid certain places and coffee shops to avoid a very uncomfortable encounter with my ex. and his “lovely” new girlfriend. No, no, I’m not bitter or sarcastic. I don’t mind, I just wish them all the happiness in the world that money can buy.

Also since I got divorced I have a little bit more time for the charity work (when you are in a relationship you keep on working on it and have to spend time together, find activities to do together to keep the romance alive but sometimes even when you do everything according to the book the romance still could die out), I talk to young people from time to time and at times it scares me that most of them want to become reality stars, have something to do with fashion and make porn to become famous.  Thank you very much Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian for introducing the younger generation to porn, very thoughtful of you. Indeed, very thoughtful

The lack of any bigger ambition in so many young people nowadays got me thinking that soon in the future I may not be able to write, or perhaps rather sell what I write ‘cos the entertainment business could be taken over by reality shows and the stupidity that is integral part of them. I can write a lot of stuff but I can’t write a script for a reality show where every other word is “fuck”, “bitch”, “ass”. You get the gist.

So, for now and for as long as I can write I’m going to follow my writing process (which is pretty simple, I sit down, drink something hot and write) and hope that stupidity is not going to take over our planet. As in my opinion it could be even more scary and dangerous than zombies or vampires. For stupidity and amongst it, for my ex’s stupidity there is definitely no cure.

Filed under: London stories, Magda Olchawska, Novel, Olchawska, Parent stories, single mom, single mum, single parent, South East London, Woman books, Women books, Women stories