My father passed away when I was 15 and writer's block set in. My writing is linked to my emotions, so of course, I couldn't write anything creative again.
Life got really hectic after high school. I went to college (A-Level Biology, Sociology, Psychology and AS-Level Chemistry) and then Uni (BSc Psychology at UCL) and reading and writing fiction felt like a thing of the past, the passion of a person that no longer existed.
And that person kept changing, too. I was still very shy and introverted, but I'd made some good friends in college and Uni, and with them, I sort of came out of my shell. Well, a little bit. Sometimes. When I wasn't busy studying, cooped up in the little computer cubicles in our Psychology department.
Anyway.
In the summer of 2006, I got the results of my final exams at Uni. I was 2% away from a First Class degree in Psychology, at UCL, one of the best Universities in the world for that subject. I was gutted. I couldn't stop thinking about the difference a First—from UCL—would've made for me, as I started applying for jobs.
I didn't mope around for long, though. Just days later, my mum was diagnosed with cancer. It was heartbreaking, for all of us, but we were lucky that the cancer was detected in the early stages, when surgery would most likely be able to remove it all. Her operation was on the same day as my graduation ceremony so I missed it. Of course I was going to be there for my mum. If my writer's block had any inclination to break down, then my mother's condition strengthened the block. I have no regrets about that, though. I was glad to be there for my mum, taking care of her after the surgery.
Once she recovered, she urged me to start looking for jobs and get my career going. I loved the research aspect of my degree; I thought research was what I wanted to do for a living. If I had to choose. In all honesty, I didn't know what I wanted for a career—since I couldn't write anymore, being an author was not an option any more. I was good at most things, but didn't know what would be good for me in the long run.
Once I started my full-time job in the financial services sector, that replaced TV and studies as the thing that controlled/took over my life. I was extremely lucky that I got to write, edit, and publish articles, blog posts and books as part of my job, but it wasn't creative writing. It was analyses of financial data, fact and research-based, informative and impartial. The in-house style was strict and concise, but it was easy for me to adapt to it, as I had to write loads of essays and lab reports for my degree in a similar style.
The dream of becoming a fiction writer dimmed further—I can't say it faded away completely, because dreams like these never do—but I consoled myself by remembering that I was writing and publishing books, something I always wanted to do. It just wasn't fiction, that's all.
This post continues in Part III.
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