Why I wrote a book

 

When someone asks me to elaborate upon why I am qualified to do something, my accountant brain immediately starts processing (I know, I know, Mrs. Analysis Paralysis). My first thoughts typically go to the more obvious stuff, such as qualifications and certificates. Should I assess that I fall short in the formal qualification category I resort to whether I have any experience.

I went through this process when I was asked to answer the question why I am qualified to write this particular book. Initially, post my assessment, I concluded that I had neither the qualifications nor the experience, I felt very unsure of myself.

'What on earth did I think I was doing? Why did I agree to do this and what could I possibly put on paper to convince someone that I can do this?’ I wondered quietly.

Nevertheless, I diligently sat in front of my computer and cranked out a few efforts. Ugh, none of those attempts resonated with me…

My first draft sounded idiotic – Not even I believed what I had written. My second draft was marginally better, but not much. The third draft would not flow properly. By that stage, my brain felt as if it was short-circuiting, so I closed my laptop in disgust and went for a run instead. I was hopeful that some fresh air would help me get my thoughts in order.

The run helped and I realised that since I was inclined to be overly analytical and typically very critical of myself, I would probably end up ditching most of my drafts if I kept concentrating on why I was qualified to write this book. I decided to focus on why I wanted to write this book, why I wanted to share my story with the world. I also realised that I had both the qualifications and the experience, albeit not of the typical kind.

I confirmed to myself that there was no one better qualified to write my story than me. I lived through each beautiful, painful, crazy and fantastic moment.

Initially I thought nothing of how the story unfolded. I mean, life happens and one deals with it as best as one can. The first couple of times that someone said to me 'Wow that is so inspirational', I felt embarrassed and brushed the comment off. I did not feel that I had done anything particularly special; people go through traumatic experiences all the time. I survived, I got through it. No, it wasn’t easy, but I didn’t see that I had much choice in the matter. To my mind, anyone else would have done the same thing. However, the comments kept on coming, and eventually I paid a bit more attention to what was being said. Perhaps, it was not for me to decide whether the story was inspirational. Perhaps there were lessons and experience that I could share with others.

Maybe, just maybe I could make a difference.

The writing part, hmmm. Well, let’s just say that I never fancied myself a writer. Wracking my brain to think of what experience I had in this department, it eventually dawned upon me, I realised that perhaps I had more experience than I initially thought.

Where did the experience come from?

I spent 11 years of my working career at a large audit firm, a significant portion of which was spent drafting factual finding reports. The way one drafts a factual finding report is, well, factual. There is no room for emotion; the writing style is abrupt and to the point - no mess no fuss. The style is the complete antithesis of the beautiful story telling that some authors seem to generate so effortlessly.

The many hours of (occasionally torturous) report writing taught me to clearly articulate and document what happened. I was trained to separate fact from emotion. To identify and explain lessons learned in a way that most people will understand. I tried to put this skill to good use in documenting my own story.

Another way that I have recorded stories over the years is though my love of photography. I take great pleasure in capturing photographs that portray the emotion of a moment, one great picture can convey a powerful story. I take the trouble to lug the camera along on most adventures, capturing highlights and occasions such as birthdays, weddings, holidays, running events and parties. My family and friends have become accustomed, and mostly accommodating, to my ‘stop, we need to take a photo’ requests.

At the end of each year, I sift through the hundreds, sometimes thousands of photographs, picking out the photos that best capture the atmosphere and general emotion of the various occasions. Using the selected photos, I design and print a photobook to record the highlights of each calendar year.

Photography has taught me how to see things from a different angle; and has helped me to focus on positive moments. Another skill that I put to good use in the writing of my manuscript.

In my own weird way, I have been documenting stories for most of my adult life.

Why did I want to do this?

I endeavoured to convey what I learnt from a couple of life altering events that had a profound impact on me, my family, friends and others. One of those life events was when I fell ill in 2015. According to the doctors, I almost did not make it (in a coma at the time, I fortunately do not recall this dire prognosis). The illness happened on us without warning - it was sudden, swift and extremely scary. One moment my husband and I were having fun on a camping holiday and the next my family was suited up in blue Smurf like hospital suits, wearing masks and visiting me in ICU.

I had always prided myself on being fairly healthy, strong and independent. Waking up in a hospital bed and being almost completely dependent upon others to assist me with basic functions such as eating and going to the toilet was a humbling process. I detested being dependent, vulnerable and helpless.

My illness impressed upon me how fragile life is. One’s circumstances can change without warning and in an instant. I realised how important it is to enjoy the time that one was granted on this earth.

Whilst in hospital, I made a conscious decision that I would do whatever it took to make a full recovery, I committed to prove the many naysayers (including some of the specialist doctors) wrong. I hated being labelled and in particular did not enjoy the prognosis of the doctors - along the lines of ‘will never be 100% again’.

Embarking on my recovery process with a single, focused goal helped me to overcome my inherent fear of failure. I refused to consider any alternative other than success. At the time, I naively measured success as me returning to the way I was before I took ill. Little did I realise that the outcome of the process would result in my becoming a more confident person with an addiction to endurance running. In my wildest dreams, I did not fathom that I would successfully complete an ultramarathon. I also never imagined that I would become a far more empathetic and compassionate person, and a better leader (both in business and in my private life).

I have come to appreciate how much stronger my experiences have made me - both mentally and physically. I am not the person I was before I was ill, this is the new me. This is ‘the me’ that I choose to be. I have a newfound appreciation for what I am capable of doing, particularly the enormous power of the mind. I more fully appreciate that the only limitations are those that one places on oneself.

Sharing the good stuff

The world is fraught with negativity; switch the TV on or open up social media and you will probably be bombarded with stories of killings, corruption, rape, murder and generally depressing stories.

I believe that we need more stories of hope. Stories that help us to maintain a positive outlook on life, relatable and believable stories. My hope is that there will be aspects in my book that will resonate with others, perhaps those who are struggling with their own challenges. My story includes lessons I have learned from endurance running, which I have successfully applied to my own life.  If I make a difference in just one person's world by sharing my adventure, then the my book writing roller-coaster ride would have been worth it.

‘If you never try, you will never know’ – Ben Francis