What does motherhood and writing a book have in common?
Hint: It isn't sleep deprivation... Or is it?
New motherhood. A career in marketing. The invisible workload of housework, keeping up with friends and family. Moving to a new city and trying to make a new life, with all that entails.
How do I even begin to write now that I have approximately 90% less time than I used to? I wrote my first book in three months (ha! take that procrastination!) but I also wasn’t working a full-time job, and the whole world was in a complete state of lockdown. So, how ‘real-life’ is that, really?
I’ve grappled with two massive things recently, each one jostling with a place in my mind. That is the persona-defining ‘motherhood’ label, alongside ‘writer.’ What, if anything, do they have in common with each other?
The Complete Obsession
The mum part of this is self-evident. The day Ellie was born was the day I stopped being Lauren and became ‘Lauren: Mother.’ Everything is about, and for, her.
It works the other way around too: writing is obsession. Especially when working on a piece of long-form fiction. You know the type of thing, you’re talking to a colleague only the subconscious part of your brain throws out a plot device, or a simple walk down the street to get coffee becomes an intense inner dialogue session between two of your characters. This is good - it means that you’re in *flow.* Well done. Now see to it that you get your words down on a piece of paper, electronic or otherwise, and finish the thing.
Feeling like you’re constantly letting yourself down
Ah, yes. The guilt! The second-guessing. The ‘can I really do this?’ Motherhood, especially with your first child, is an absolute minefield and one you can’t prepare for no matter how many self-help books or NCT classes you try to cram in before the big day. You learn by doing. By the nitty-gritty. The bad days teach you much more than the good. It’s a process of making that self-doubt quieter and quieter in your brain so you can focus on getting through those patches of uncertainty.
‘But…I’m not a real writer.’ Well, guess what. You are. Anyone who sits down and writes even one word is writing. A writer. It’s not a mystical title that’s only given to best-selling authors or deeply-artistic poets. You’re a writer. Repeat: You’re a writer. Let that sink in. Then tell yourself this simple statement three times every time you sit at your desk about to begin a session.
Envy at those who seem to have it all figured out
I’ve always described myself as an easy going person. My parents instilled in me the strong belief that what others have doesn’t have to affect you - that you’re on your own journey. For the most part, I’ve believed that.
Mum life, I’m embarrassed to say, has turned me into the green monster many a time. A sensory lesson where your baby screams at you for an hour while the other babies roll about the floor in cherubic joy. Taking baby out for breakfast to only watch it grow cold as you walk about the place, rocking said screaming baby or feeding; you only have so many hands. So much energy to give. Other mums sit by, appearing to have an Instagram-able cute coffee moment and you just feel like giving up, except you can’t.
Writing has sometimes brought the same uneasy feeling. You go to an author event and feel physical pain at hearing their seemingly ‘easy’ origin story. Or you read about someone who wrote their book on the tube and instantly got a deal with a global publisher. It’s hard to feel pleased with them sometimes, but guess what! You’re probably sitting in the exact same place they were. They once sat down and had to start, too. They are now giving hope to all of us that we’ll get to the other side and see our work out there.
But! The community is there for you
The best thing I did as a new mum was join a postnatal mental health group, organised by my local Mind charity. Once a week, over a cup of tea, we discussed everything we were struggling with, gave each other advice, a hug and told each other we could do this. We were worthy. We were figuring it out together.
Once I’d been through my first draft of my first novel and needed to begin the lengthy editorial process and start plotting my second book, I also needed support. I needed to dust myself off and join the world again. I joined a few online writing groups until I found the right one with Mslexia - a weekly writing hour where at the very end you can discuss your projects, how it’s going, any sticking points. It’s not a conventional ‘please read my stuff and let me know what you think’ but I’m not in that headspace right now. I’m in the ‘I can only find an hour once a week where I can commit to turning up’ and it’s lovely to be around people who are working on their stuff too - in their own time and pace. It’s a shared community. I also, at the big old age of 36, joined the gen z’s on TikTok to talk about writing. I’ll update more on that soon if anything positive comes of it. Still, putting yourself out there, whether as a new mum or writer, is scary. It takes a minute to walk into that room. Give yourself grace and patience.
Knowing that you don’t want to do anything else with your time: This is it.
You know that this is what you want to do. I know I wanted Ellie more than anything and it took me a while to get there. Even on the very bad days, sat in A&E, absolutely exhausted, there’s that part of me that flickers to life. That gratitude.
You have a story to tell. You have something to share. Writing, like parenthood, is a vocation. It’s larger than just a job. It’s part of you and you can’t stop until it’s done. And *spoiler* - it never is.
Lauren is a writer living in the UK. Her first book is currently going through the pain of agent querying and publisher submissions. She is mum to a gorgeous one-year old, Ellie, and their favourite thing to do together is read. She’s currently working on her second novel; a romance bridging the worlds of Manchester and Paris.