the month I finally felt like a real writer

I finally feel like a real writer.

What a sentence.

When I started taking my writing seriously in 2015, every morning the first words to leave my mouth were I want to be a writer so badly. I’m not even joking. I said it every morning the moment my eyes came open, still full of sleep as I checked my emails to see if I’d had any short story or querying success. (I usually hadn’t). My friends, I can only assume, found my near-constant pining absolutely insufferable, but humoured and loved and supported me anyway1.

8 years after that, I got my literary agent, the same year I got my first book deal, but it wasn’t until 2025, that my first book was published. It was met with some acclaim and became a Sunday Times Bestseller (which still astounds me). I got a special edition. I was doing book events and travelling across the UK for over a year. I got lovely messages off readers and even some fan tattoos! And yet, I still didn’t feel like a ‘real’ writer.

This month, I’ve been reflecting on that phrase - “a real writer” - what it really means and where it comes from. I tried to define it. In my notebook, I pencilled a list of things that described what I thought one might look like:

• Someone intelligent

• Confident, but not arrogant

• Poses deep ideas

• Beloved by readers and influencers and critics and retailers

• Featured at every book festival

• Someone who sells out their events and is nominated for every big award

• They are rarely criticised, and loved by all the cool people on TikTok

• They have something important to say

• Bucket loads of mystique (they know when to be quiet)

• Someone who never struggles

• A clean image - no anxiety

• Someone who can sit and write all day (and it’s basically publish ready)

• They have a garden and a big house where they can write like they’re an author from another, more simple time

• Easy going (and easy to work with)

• Doesn’t worry about money (because financial literacy is chic)

• Even the hard bits a total breeze for “real writer”

• Effortlessly shift huge sales figures so their publishers adore them

• Someone perfect

Wild - I just described the person all authors want to be (AKA publishing’s chosen one).

My debut journey was entirely magical, but, even though I was very lucky to work with such a dedicated team, I still felt lots of uncertainty. I’m realising, over a year after having been published, that putting your work out there so publicly, reveals how much or little you really think of yourself. All the insecurities or personal shortcomings you’d managed to keep buried begin to wriggle beneath the surface. Every terrible thought or anxiety you’ve ever had about yourself or your work is now someone’s very public social media review or reddit post.

After a nice, long think, I realised that our confidence must come from within if it’s to be seaworthy (rather from what opportunity and acclaim is bestowed upon us).

Living with that often deeply excruciatingly public criticism is requirement of the job. That means all the mental health maintenance and working on becoming a genuinely positive, confident person becomes an equally important part of the job too - all so there can be some sort of balance to offset the (genuinely overwhelming, cosmic and Lovecraftian) fear of being perceived.

So that’s what I’ve been doing this month.

I’ve been working on myself. I’ve been feeding my optimism, curiosity and positivity to keep myself resilient, hoping I become some sort of happiness addict. I put less value in the superficial aesthetic of being a writer (see garden and big house where one can write their novel), and more value into the way I feel when I write (which is free, creative and powerful - and definitely capable of defeating Cthulhu if I wanted to.)

This is what that looked like in May:

Despite being worried I lacked the ability, I worked on my next round of edits. I turned the ms around in three weeks and burned the midnight oil sculpting a much stronger book. I handed it in three days early and then only spent 25% of the following week worrying about whether or not it was good enough (which is a significant and most remarkable improvement from the last time).

I got the A-OK that a nonfiction piece I’d written for a magazine had no more editorial work to do and was ready to go. I tackled my edits on a very, very dark short story I’ve written about fatphobia (soon to be announced). Got another short story over the line, handed it into the commissioning body and waited for notes.

This also got announced this month! I cannot tell you how STOKED I am to be in this sick folk horror anthology with these amazing authors!! I’m pinching myself. There’s some sinister beasties in this book! I’ve written about a creature called Cumbric (inspired by my home region’s dead language). Cumbric is a woodland beast with a hundred mouths all over its body 🤍 this is a horror story for anyone who has been told they’re too much or they talk too often! IYKYK 🫶

Pre order link for exclusive cool beastie loot + book below!

pre order the beastie

Miraculously got two more short story commissions for this year and hustled like crazy with my freelancing. I facilitated several really awesome horror workshops. I also got one of those terrifying emails to let me know a screen project went out on submission (ahhhhhh!). Alongside that, I’ve been working with some really talented mentee clients to get their work ready for querying. And last, The Lamb won the 2026 Nota Bene Prize, which came at precisely the moment I needed it. The news found me when I was feeling low about my ability and worthiness. The prize was a public vote, and I felt a lot of gratitude to my readers, who make me feel special and clever every single day <3

I want to feel like “a real writer” forever. I find I feel like this when I’m busy and creating, escaping from the heaviness of planet earth in the year of our lord 2026. Unfortunately, I’m not always this busy. And most of the time, I don’t feel like a “real writer”.

What I do know is this: how we feel about ourselves is never a linear journey, but right now, I am content. I know my worth. I am a writer.

Outside of writing, I had a quiet month. But this is how I spent my time:

• Got four new small tattoos, which in turn made me feel a little bit more like myself. My favourites are the cheeky seagull and the d20 dice.

• Became a dungeon master! I’ve previously ran a very short and unsuccessful campaign but… guys, I think I’ve got it this time?

• Spent time with my cat and embraced the quiet.

• Went on a beautiful sea walk.

• Started waking up earlier because the sun comes through the curtains before 7am.

• Watched comfort shows and played video games.

• Used my phone 50% less than the previous month, and embraced offline living as much as I could.

• Took the time to engage in non-career hobbies and bound three more books.

• Felt pride in one of my friends getting all their flowers at long last!

• Watched the first two Shrek movies after that evil far right party won my local council elections in a landslide victory. This was a good choice because Shrek is very green and it tells the story of a rough around the edges, impoverished regional man who lives in a swamp, who then tries to clear all the fairy tale refugees from his home town. He then grows a strong bond of attachment to one of the refugees (a donkey voiced by a black man) and goes on a quest with him to get his home back from the evil price who abandoned all the refugees in the swamp, but realises, that actually they are outsiders just like him. The donkey ends up living in the swamp with him, and at the end, the fairytale refugees become his friends and they all have a big party at the swamp when he gets married.