When I was young I wanted to become a writer. I wrote fairy tales, and plays to be performed by Punch and Judy. But most of all I wrote my own life: I imagined myself to be the main character in the my story. I would tell it to myself, not by writing a diary, but by narrating what “she” did. I called my life “bookish”, i.e. just like those books for young girls that always end right.
Eventually I stopped writing, and I stopped telling my own narrative to myself. I told myself that making sure one is happy needed all my capacity and concentration. I’m not sure that this was because I did not feel happy. I have never considered myself unhappy. I still thought of my life as “bookish”. I just stopped writing one day.
And I found a very clever excuse for my lack of talent and dedication!
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