I’m not sure if I had known it would have made a difference, but after I had almost completed my first publishing project I was made aware of other family members who were successful in the field of writing. I had wanted to write since I was six years old, and did, short stories and projects that made me feel satisfied and content. I did not always have support with these stories, often told my reading and writing of horror were a waste of time, I should be reading educational material or at least the classics. They did not entertain me at the time, so I chose horror, or sometimes I think horror chose me.

But my passion for writing continued and after a number of years immersed only in work, the need to write took over. The book was pretty much writing itself in my head so I thought I best put pen to paper (or open a new word file on the computer as is the way these days). Only when it was in the finishing stages of editing did I dare tell my closest family, my grandparents. They are well read people and I was so nervous about what they would think, but I gave them my manuscript and waited.

I hadn’t really comprehended how much their approval meant to me until they gave it. It was the green light I had been waiting for without even realizing it, to have the most critical people I knew pass me as acceptable or at least as having potential. It made my day. But then followed the reveal, did I know, he said, that multiple family members including my great uncle, for doing a play script which is still used today of Treasure Island, and my great aunt and her husband, both authors and he having been a journalist and correspondent for a very well heard of paper for years. Even my uncle had published a book.

For a moment I wasn’t sure what this meant, am I now expected to be a successful author like other members of the family, or was it just encouragement to show me it can be done. Either way, I then had to work out exactly who’s expectation was I really trying to live up to, theirs, or mine?…

(c) K Wicks