Why I want to write a book

If someone told me the end of the world was coming and I had to give up one of either reading or writing in order to prevent it, I would take about half a second to make my choice. I would rather spend the rest of my life eating two minute noodles than give up reading.

I am addicted to books. Have been ever since I was a little kid; I have my wonderful Mum to thank for that. I come from a family of prolific readers. Christmas Day and birthdays are always a bit of a let down if there isn’t at least one book amongst the present pile. On average I would say I get through around two books a week, depending on what else is going on in my life at the time, and the size of the books in question. Sometimes it is only one a month, but that tends to result in a book reading binge. I fairly regularly stay up until 1am or 2am to polish off a book on a school night. A quick count of my bedside table at the moment tells me that I have 17 books actively on the go or with an intention to be finished at some point before Christmas (wishful thinking). And yes this includes Shantaram. It also includes Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver, which I have been struggling through for about three years (loved Let’s Talk About Kevin, but this one is just a slog).

A lot of people have asked me why I want to write a book. Which is a good question given that I have just told you all that I would choose reading over writing if forced to make the choice. I guess the best reason I can give is that because I love to read so much, love books and the world of fiction, I can’t imagine not at least attempting to make a contribution to that world. I too want to create a story that makes a reader want to hug it to their chest when they have finished. To create characters that they are still thinking about days after they have finished the final page.

I wasn’t born with any athletic ability – I was born with two left feet but a willingness to try anything. My Dad once told me he was proud of me for running (I was in training for the 10k Gold Coast run at the time) because it didn’t come naturally to me. I wasn’t offended by this; I found it quite funny and entirely accurate. I also wasn’t born with a massive IQ. I have always been a hard worker (this I am convinced I was born with) so mostly achieve what I set out to do, but I was never going to be a rocket scientist or molecular biologist. I am also near tone deaf with no musical talent. Despite being quite adept at the recorder when I was about eight years old, I am never going to be the next Julia Stone no matter how much singing practice I do in the car.

But I can write. And I think we all have an obligation to make good use of our god given talents. Writing persuasive executive summaries for Sewerage Treatment Plants and Parallel Runways is riveting, but not quite cutting the mustard as they say.

So I’m going to write. Write a story that has been banging about in my head in one form or another for about seven years, although it did just make quite a U-Turn about four weeks ago when I had a moment of divine inspiration when standing at Suz and Paul’s wedding. They (the same they as referenced before, whoever they are) also say that your first novel is often quite autobiographical – and I don’t doubt they are right. I write romantic comedy, and all of you who know me (which is everyone, given only my lovely family and friends read this blog) know that my love life is nothing short of a comedy. But don’t worry, I promise this will be a little more interesting.

But that’s about all I am going to say about it. I have just finished reading Stephen King’s novel On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. He talks about writing with the door closed, and writing with the door open. Door closed is for the first draft, door open for the second. I am still writing with the door closed, and will be for quite some time. So I am going to apologise in advance if I screw up my face and ummm and ahhh a lot when asked about my book and what it’s about. I’m just not ready to open the door yet. But I sincerely promise it isn’t because I am writing a book about any of you (despite having received several requests from friends – mostly male - to have the main character named after them. Even when they don’t know if that means they will be the equivalent of Hannibal Lecter).

Ask me again in six months time, when hopefully I will have bashed out some dodgy first draft, whether I would still give up writing over reading. Maybe when I consider myself more of a writer I will have a different view. For now I had better make a dent in these books....I could be up all night.