The year of the pandemic has shattered many things: it’s left millions without work or precariously employed, challenged our mental health and forced us to come to terms with many subjects that we generally avoid, like the impact that environmental destruction and polarized politics have on the lives of millions around the world. Having to rethink our daily habits, family relationships and even our careers and sense of purpose, has made so many of us break our old selves and rebuild again.
For an extrovert like me, nothing feels more unnatural than being away from friends, coworkers and even the crowds that flood Union Station at sunset. But unnatural as this experience has been, this forced retreat from hectic city life has also been a door into a life I didn’t believe was possible: writing again.
This year, I started and finished a novel, wrote and edited two short stories and created and submitted two pieces of flash fiction to literary magazines. After halting all writing for over 15 years, I find myself overflowing with stories to tell and happy to have the solitude to explore my mind for new ideas.
I’ve had the courage to put my work forward, but starting off is hard in any field, and rejection can be especially bitter in the arts, where you put your most vulnerable side forward. That said, I’ve found encouraging voices and look forward to mentorship opportunities and more chances to bring out the tiny, resourceful little girl inside of me who always seemed to confident for her little frame…
What will next year bring? It’s hard to say, but my wish for you is that it’s filled with creative power and inspiration.
My Writing Story 