2024 the year of the book

‘2024, the year of the book’ – This is what Beverly Ward, my fantastic writing coach, wrote in my Christmas card last year. I still have it pinned it on my notice board as a reminder and a prompt. It also sits alongside a picture of my dad and his girlfriend Tracey; It always feels like his eyes are staring directly at me, shouting, ‘Just get it finished, will ya…’ and now I have, I am in the midst of an anticlimax.

22nd March 2020,  I remember the day well. I had just returned from a weekend writing retreat in Bridlington, where I had finally created a framework for my book. Then, the first COVID lockdown happened. My life, like everyone else’s, felt turned upside down. Working from home was challenging, but finding time to focus on the book was even more problematic. I would never have gotten to this point without Beverly Ward and the online Monday Morning Motivation sessions I’ve attended religiously (give or take a few) ever since.

Today, Sunday, 5th January 2025, is another day I will never forget. This afternoon, after years of self-doubt, emotional writer’s block, and a couple of trauma therapy sessions, I have finally done it. Two hundred forty-five thousand, six hundred seventy-eight words and 690 pages later, I have completed the first draft of my memoir, which tells my story and my dad’s.

I have dreamed about this moment and often wondered how I might feel once I got here, but it wasn’t what I expected. I feel numb and keep asking myself, ‘What was all that about?’—the very question I asked myself a few days after Dad passed away.

And now I find myself asking, ‘Was it a waste of time?’ But deep down, I know it wasn’t. Writing this book has always been about telling my story, not selling it. Even if only a few people read it, this journey has been life-changing. And now, after hours and hours of grafting, I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. Hence, this blog.

Writing this book hasn’t just been about putting words on a page; it’s been a personal transformative journey. I remember the initial excitement of creating a framework in Bridlington , the struggle of balancing writing with the chaos of daily life, and the unwavering support from Beverly Ward and my fellow writers in the MMM sessions. Each session was a small victory, a step closer to a dream I had long held dear.

Each milestone on this journey could tell its own story. The initial structure of the book felt like planting a seed in fertile soil full of potential and hope. I have been nurturing that seed through various seasons, each day presenting its challenges and triumphs. And now, completing the first draft feels like witnessing that seed finally sprout into a robust sapling, ready for it to be edited and pruned.

Caring for my dad taught me invaluable lessons about resilience, compassion, and the complexities of human vulnerability. It was a daunting task, filled with moments of despair and helplessness, but it also brought about a profound understanding of the impact of addiction and the importance of empathy. This book has been integral to my ongoing recovery journey. It wasn’t just about the words but about facing my demons and acknowledging that my problem was never really about the drugs—it was me. Its been a therapeutic endeavor, allowing me to confront and process my past traumas and come to terms with my own actions. Each page written has felt like a step closer toward healing and a way to channel my struggles into something meaningful and constructive.

I can’t express enough gratitude for the support systems that have been in place. Beverly Ward and the MMM sessions have been my anchors, keeping me grounded and motivated. Friends, family, and fellow writers who have cheered me on, listened to my doubts, and celebrated my small wins—you have all been an integral part of this journey.

After dreaming about this moment for so long, I expected a surge of joy or relief. Instead, I feel a sense of numbness, akin to the disorientation I felt a few days after Dad passed away. It’s like climbing a steep mountain expecting a breathtaking view at the summit, only to find that the fog has rolled in, obscuring everything. The achievement is still there—I did climb the mountain—but the emotional reward is missing.

So now that the first draft is complete, a new chapter begins—editing, refining, and eventually publishing. While the road ahead is still long, I am ready to embrace it with the same dedication and passion that brought me here. I hope that by sharing my story, I can inspire others on their own paths to recovery and self-discovery.

Lets see what the next chapter holds

Love Fordy

AKA #Unapologeticwriter

Remember – I don’t write for financial reward or gain. I want to help share my lived experience with others, hoping it helps. Plus I love to write, so if you fancy getting the occasional email (NO SPAM) with the most up-to-date blogs from yours truly, please feel free to subscribe at the bottom of the main page.