Recently I have seen a lot of blog posts about being grateful. The other day when I looked at my blog stats I genuinely shed a tear. I didn’t know it was going to be so emotional for me and I feel a bit silly for doing it.
I tried telling people around me that don’t have the writing ambition and they didn’t really understand why it means so much for me. So I thought I would write it down here, as a thank you to all you out there that enjoy my content, likes, comments, follows.
As a kid I loved telling stories. What I loved most about it was people’s way of reacting to my stories; sadness, laughter or excitement. I became rather soon good at coming up with stories for my friends and family.
Someone then told me when I was around 8 that I could be an author. As an avid reader I was overjoyed and it just made sense to me.
Then the word Dyslexic fell into my lap. I had a very mean teacher as a kid. When they found out I had this she restricted me from borrowing books from the library. We went as a class once a month. I was not allowed to borrow a book for my own age group but more like….”start reading books”. And not more than one.
Some incidents I remember with her was one day when my glasses was broken and I was struggling to go through the day without them. We had an hour of reading time and I tried very hard to pretend to read the “start reading book”. Suddenly she asked me to read out loud. I didn’t see the text so started improvising, making a story up.
She snatched the book out of my hand and started laughing and saying that I couldn’t even read something as easy as that.
Another memory was when she asked everyone the day before summer break what they wanted to be when they grew up.
“An Author” – Elin, 12 years old
I replied loud and clear and she gave me a smirk smile.
“To do that you need to know how to spell, Elin” – Teacher of the year
I made my mind up to crush her smile and prove her wrong. After this I stopped playing and being with the other kids. I came home from school and wrote, page after page. First by hand and when I got older and got my first computer I used that.
Everything I wrote ended up on a huge external hard drive.
In high school I met two wonderful friends who also loved writing. We started sharing and helping each other out. We also started a writing club after school with the school librarian. I also met a Swedish teacher that loved helping. When I sent him a one page novel he sent two pages back with good and bads.
It was during this time of my life that I did most of my writing. I also had the chance of being in the local newspaper for my novels.
When I left to go to the university the most horrible thing happened. On my hard drive I had around 1500 documents in different sizes. Starting on books, novels, poetry….everything I had written since I was 8.
My brother did an update on my computer with the hard drive attached to it. Everything was gone. I screamed and cried for days and both my brothers laughed at me like I was a crazy person.
But to me it was death. Everything I had sacrificed to write, to make my dream come true. It was all gone and suddenly I felt like my purpose was gone.
I could restart….
But I couldn’t get those 12 years of writing back. So I stopped. I drown myself in my studies to be a librarian and worked 4 night and weekend jobs. I never wrote again.
I never tell people this about me. Because it sounds like I threw everything away myself and I wasn’t strong enough to pick myself up after I fell. And it’s true, I didn’t.
Then I met Vince. Before we met physical (When Elin met Vince) we talked. We talked a lot. Or I should say, I talked a lot. Never have anyone been patient enough to listen to me for hours. We sat up all night talking over Skype.
One of the things I told him was this. He could see I wanted it. So this year he encouraged me to begin again.
“Write Elin. Anything.” – Vince
And so my first blog was created. “Engelska Frun” meaning the English wife. I started it on a Swedish blog website.
I wanted his and my family to read and because it was about our relationship and he is British I couldn’t just do it in Swedish I thought.
But soon I got problem. English people didn’t understand how to leave a comment or follow because the site was all in Swedish. And Swedish readers only commented that they wanted to me to write in Swedish.
So I thought I should leave all of it and start a WordPress. A place where more people can understand and it be more natural to write in English.
In 5 days I had 60+ followers and that’s more than I got in months on the Swedish site. Not that it really matters but suddenly I felt very overwhelmed with the thought that seeing people warm and nice comments meant I once again made people happy. People enjoy my content and my stories.
I might have dyslexia and I’m not fluent in English. But I try!
This is what I love!
I do it out of love to entertain others. I want to make you smile, cry, laugh or just make you feel something.
Thanks to you I’m happy again.
I’m happy and I’m writing again.
It took me 5 years.
Thank you Miss/Mr commenter.
Thank you Miss/Mr liker
Thank you Miss/Mr follower.
Thank you Miss/Mr reader.
Thank you Vince
What makes you blog? What does writing mean to you?