There are certain people in the world who are proud of what they do. They declaim to the world, through whatever medium, their talents and their strengths. For a lucky number, work itself is something to be cherished and lived through. Doctors, maybe, can go here. All that training and firm dedication? That's love, that is, of a profession.
There are others who do have that burning, singular passion - should I call it a need? - and yet they hide it, out of being embarrassed, or a confused understanding of what it means to have truly made it in this world. Into this category, comes writers. It's strange to say, but so many people who dream of having a book in their name sitting on the shelves of bookstores across the world hide this fact.
Maybe it's that, without being published, it seems like an empty title.
Maybe it's just the niggling doubts that you might not really be that good. How many unpublished writers are so because they never, ever show their writings to anyone?
Everyone can write. Not everyone can be a writer. Does that sound wrong?
Not everyone can be a doctor, either. Takes training, that does. Last time I walked into a hospital and offered to fill in for the surgeon I got blank stares. I think they were waiting for the balloons and custard pies to appear, to make sense of why I was asking such clearly ridiculous questions.
So, writers - a lot of them - are strangely coy about it.
Me too. Oh yes, me too.
This blog is going to follow me, I hope, and chart the journey from being shy and a little embarrassed about my book to getting it out and published.
So, more details to come...