The Diary Of An Aspiring Author


If Only I

The temperature is mild, but I still wear my k-way as it looks like it may rain soon. I can’t let that stop me, though. Don’t know what the weather is going to be like on race day. I have to be prepared for everything.

I set my sport watch and I start running.

My right foot goes first, immediately followed by the left one. Then the right again. And the left.

Right, left. Right, left. Like in a loop.

In my headphones, the Gallaghers are saying that Sally can wait. She knows it’s too late, as she’s walking on by, my soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger, I heard you say.  I love this song. A song of no regrets. We should all live by it. But it’s hard, isn’t it? At least, it is to me. I am always second guessing my decisions. Picking something and forgetting about the other options is so tough for me that too often I just stay put and chose nothing. I dream. I imagine all the possible scenarios instead of acting. It’s easier, and you can always change the outcome. Whereas when you actually do something, you have to face the consequences. And what if you don’t like them? What if you realise you haven’t planned the thing properly? So, I never really follow my plans. I am too scared to find out they don’t work. The result? I get nothing from them ‘cause I don’t even try. This is what I’ve done with my novel so far. I wrote it and that’s it. I did a bit of editing, yeah. But never enough to get it ready to try and put it out there. Fear of rejection? Almost certainly. Fear of being judged? Yeah, it sounds pretty much like it. And where did that take me? Nowhere. I’m still here, dreaming of becoming a professional author. Dreaming but not acting upon it.

I increase my running speed. Right, left. Right, left.

The greenery around me is not very green today. The absence of the sun affects the colours. It makes them appear less bright.

Right, left. Right, left. Running keeps my mind focused and helps me see things straight.

They’re right when they say that the only certain way to fail, is not to try. Because if you don’t try you are precluding yourself the chance to succeed. And that’s precisely what I’m doing. I am precluding myself the chance to do something with my novel. I would like to publish it, hoping it would help the world become a better place. Pretentious, eh? And that’s another reason why I limit myself. I don’t wanna be seen as a pretentious person.

Right, left. Right, left.

What should I do then? Keep doing what I’ve been doing my entire life? Close my dreams in a drawer and forget about them? Live a miserable life because I haven’t even tried to make those dreams happen? Live a life of regret? Gosh, I’m not prepared for that. If only I had the courage to finish editing The Eye Society and put it out, maybe I could help people change their perspectives about the climate crisis. Maybe that could inspire them to come together and act to stop the worst from happening. Then if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but at least I tried, so no regrets, right?

My sport watch vibrates. 1 mile. Eight minutes twenty-seven seconds. I smile. I run faster when I think about my goals. It’s a sign of how much I want to achieve them.

Right, left. Right, left.

Canary Wharf in the distance reminds me where I live. After nine years in London, I got used to its beauty. However, I am pretty sure that on race day I’m going to be overwhelmed by it. Running through Westminster and the City, surrounded by London’s most iconic places. It’s really going to be something.

Right, left. Right, left.

Somehow, there’s a similarity between running a race and writing a novel. Running towards the finish line, one mile at the time, it’s just like writing a manuscript. All the way towards the end of the story, one page at the time. And I did it. I wrote a novel. Now I should just use the same approach for the editing. If I can run thirteen miles, I can also do that massive rewriting I have in mind.

Right, left. Right left.

I’m unstoppable, I’m a Porsche with no brakes, I’m invincible, Yeah, I win every single game. Now Sia is singing. This playlist doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a bunch of songs I like, put together without following a precise criterion. Yet, it’s working just perfectly.

Right, left. Right, left.

The right song at the right time. Coincidence, or sign?

©Brooxy Moon

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