#100daysofwriting, day eighty+, 2021-08-20

It’s been a while, I know. It’s kind of difficult for me to think about a daily question, read all the answers that come in (even though those have become less) and also write my own post.

So I stopped. At the end of the day, this blog is not mission critical for me, I don’t have to write a post when I just can’t make it.

Why am I making this post then?

My tumblr post for 2021-08-19

I asked about my participants how they feel about their old writing and as a bonus homework I had them say something nice about their past-writer-selves. And that got me thinking about my own past-writer-self.

My beginning of writing is fractured. I remember being a kid, almost breaking my fingers on a mechanical typewriter as I wrote stories about girls and horses. Then there’s a break and I have some vague memories of writing short stories for the university paper, I think? And then it all stopped.

Years later, after studying and working and children and a lot of self reflection and after discovering fanfiction, I started again. I wrote my first porn in 2012. I was 43 and I started a brandnew chapter of my life. I have a feeling that I saved my life in that moment because it opened up a world for me, a world I couldn’t even imagine before. I didn’t even know how happy I could be.

Past-writer-me went through all the difficult steps that we all go through, the self-doubt, the perfectionism, but still, she did it. The story of past-writer-me is one of saying that it’s never too late to start something new, it’s never too late to give your life a new direction, it’s never too late to pick up a new dream. And it’s also a story of daring to take a new step and just do it.

I’m not that carefree writer anymore that wrote a story of a human and alien having sex in two days and published it on fanfiction.net, and I miss her sometimes. But she was awesome, and I still am.