I remember as though it were yesterday, my tutor on my creative writing course at uni rolling her eyes at my first short fiction submission. To give her her due, it was awful, but come on, I was 19 and my baseline for ‘good’ writing, was articles in Sugar and Just Seventeen magazines. She may as well have told me that my annoying inner voice telling me not to bother as I’m never going to be a good writer, was right. Well in your face creative writing tutor, I’m back and this time I have a story to tell that doesn’t involve a teenage girl going on a date and then thinking her new boyfriend is cheating on her, but lo – it turns out he’s a twin and it’s him she’s spied with another girl! (I know, told you it was awful). Phew, looks like I had to get that off my chest, didn’t even realise I’d been holding on to it. So, back to the matter in hand – I’ve written a book.
I’ve been writing stories from as soon as I could write, my best friend and I would pen colourful books about our my little ponies and sylvanian families, complete with crayoned illustrations, then read them out to any audience we could gather – our not so willing siblings, slightly more obliging parents or even better – each other.
I was an avid journal keeper throughout my teenage years (cringe when I read those back now). This continued sporadically through adulthood, and when me and my husband starting struggling to conceive our baby, it ramped up with a vengeance, my pen scribbling out all my angst, despair and hope onto the pages of my journal. Our daughter was born three years and three months after we started trying to conceive and our world took on the rose tinted sheen of new parents. Awe, bewilderment and elation permeated our existence.
During those bubble like, sleep deprived months, I found myself again reaching for the notebook. I had an overwhelming urge to write. I knew, I had to tell my story. Not only did I finally have something to write about, but writing about it could also, help people – win. I know I’m not alone in struggling to conceive, in fact I’d probably describe my experience as fertility issues-light when I look at what others go through. But, I know I would have liked to read a book like the one I’ve (very nearly) finished writing.
The trying to conceive journey is a lonely and isolating place, and people don’t really ‘get it’ unless they’ve been there. So I hope that my story might help others, as I tell my tale with what I hope is complete candour, vulnerability and at times a sense of humour. When life tests you, you really find out who you are. It’s easy to be happy, upbeat and positive when everything’s rosy. Navigating the emotional roller-coaster of infertility, without losing yourself and giving into obsession is no mean feat. So, just now, my book is being read by some willing volunteers on their own fertility journey and it may undergo some final edits before it’s brought forth into the world, via Kindle Publishing Direct. Watch this space…
Tori x
Tori Day 