When is it time to quit?

This week, I lost my facebook account.

I know, first world problem.

Here’s the thing, though, my email was hacked a year ago and I lost A LOT.

The rebuild of my bank accounts, email, social media, changing hundreds of passwords, reconnecting with friends, fixing so many admin, school, and house related accounts was a HUGE effort.

I took a breath, and a year on, whilst seeing my first three books get published, I have begun to build myself a community, made the small start to create my brand, get my books seen and read, had the privilege of connecting with readers and thriller groups and built relationships in the writing/reading community.

I have worked hard. Spent money. Begun to find where I fit.

This week, on holiday with my boys, a few days of fun and freedom before some surgery (not life threatening), my facebook account disappeared. Again. No warning, no explanation, no appeal. Just gone.

And I am unable to create a new account. No avenue is available to me to reinstate my account.

My connections, memories and hard work is gone.

I am loving writing my thriller novels and I want to make a success of my writing career. I want to work hard. I believe, with my whole being, that effort is rewarded.

But this week, I have had to accept that failure is sometimes inevitable, unavoidable, and final.

I am sad I cannot continue with the connections I have built, the author days I had the honor of participating in, the book discussions, the promotions and ads I was getting better and better at.

It is just social media. There are other avenues available to me for promoting my books and finding those connections. I have instagram and Tiktok.

Still, Facebook felt important. It played a part in my life everyday.

Yet, here I am. On Substack. Building again.

There is always a silver lining, isn’t there?

A new door opening.

If I’m honest with myself, I was trying to do so much, be everywhere, do everything. Maybe I am being shown another way. Something has been lost to make room for something else.

Isn’t that always the way when something fails, it paves the way for a new beginning.

Since having my general anaesthetic, I have not slept. I think all the pain meds have messed with my system. The first night after my surgery, I made seventeen voice notes related to my next novel and my Substack.

Instead of feeling angry or frustrated by my vanished facebook account, I am feeling excited for Substack and my next books.

Focussed. Invigorated. Determined.

I am enjoying writing around the edges of my first series, The Peasedale Woods Killers, in my Voices From Peasedale Woods publication. I feel like I will find my place in the Substack community being me, the Lonely-Happy-Writer, and I have plans for a new publication, a fictional series which I will call Patient 1.

I am fifty. I have raised kids. I have built a family home. I have nurtured, organised, cleaned, fixed, fed, planned, disciplined, tidied, driven, maintained, supported, coaxed, calmed.

Now I want to CREATE.

I will use the failures to learn.

I will see the failures as a stepping stone to something else, something unexpected, something new.

I will embrace the failures, face the frustration, set aside the loss, and use my time with intent and purpose.

Just don’t go looking for me on Facebook…