The Sunday I Accidentally Found The Book I'd Already Written

In my role as a self-publishing consultant, I meet lots of interesting people and read different stories long before they become books. One of those authors is Paul Underwood. His series, The Tiny Windows Collection, is two books in, with Ninety Tiny Windows and Ninety More Tiny Windows now published. These are a collection of short stories, ninety in each book.

When I’m out and about with Paul at events, working on his books, or sharing cakes. Actually, I never share my cake, so I’ll re-word that. When we are out, each having a cake is a better way to describe that. Anyway, Paul’s influence has rubbed off on me. We sit in cafes, railway stations, bookshops and libraries, creating short stories in our heads. Sometimes we say them out loud, but usually in a whisper. It might be why the man in the shocking blue trainers can’t tie his shoelaces, or the reason the woman is wearing that ridiculous hat – that might or might not be a wig or, heaven forbid, her real hair. You get the picture.

It got me thinking. Could I write short stories? At school, my English teachers were constantly telling me that my essays were too long. Sometimes they refused to mark them because of that. So much for encouraging creativity in pupils! My essays and stories continued to be long, and I did indeed achieve a very good mark in my English Language O-level. So there, Mrs (name withheld because a) it would be rude to post and b) I can’t actually remember as it’s been etched from my memory).

Obviously, I didn’t want to steal Paul’s thunder and do 90 short stories as he’d done. Some of his are flash fiction and only six words. That’s too tough for me. But what if I did my stories all 1,000 words? I could do 100 stories and, as a play on words, call it 100 1000 Words. But there would only be 100 stories. But then I thought, why limit it to 1000 words? What if some were more and some less? Just so long as there were 100 of them.

Then on Saturday, I had another adventure cycling. Somewhere in the region of 40 miles again. A tough day, with Crow Road getting the better of me again. But I chose that route purposely because I wanted to cycle the road up from Fintry towards Arnprior. Why? I knew the gorse would be out in full bloom. There is something glorious about cycling among the bright yellow petals and the wonderful almond smell.

Before I even reached Crow Road, I was cycling on the Strathkelvin Railway Track, aiming to jump off this at Lennoxtown to head up Crow Road. But I got lost. Not physically lost. You can’t get lost on that track. No, I got lost in my thoughts. Totally lost. So much so that I flew past the Lennoxtown turnoff and had to right through to Clachan of Campsie before turning back, but at least I avoided the long roadworks outside the library.

Lost in my thoughts. Or did I have some sort of epiphany? Recently, I’ve wondered why I have had years of not writing, and sometimes, years of not cycling. I love them both. It all became clear as I cycled through the aroma of wild garlic on the cycle path. I’ve been very fortunate in my working life to have jobs that I enjoyed. Except for the time I worked for B&M when the tearoom closed during the Covid lockdown. But that’s for another story. Even as a primary school girl, I used writing as a way to escape the trauma of life. Then I discovered cycling. Both worked, and I survived. But here’s the thing, cycling and writing were never ways to escape my job. I didn’t want to become a writer because I didn’t like what I was doing. I didn’t cycle to get away from my job. I didn’t believe I was a writer.

But now I realise that the real reason I didn’t start writing books years ago was me. I was the reason. I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t think I could write stories. Then I started to think about Baby Jesus and the Nativity Gang stories I’ve been writing on social media for the last 10 years. And that’s just some of them. You need to find them; they are very funny, and no Baby Jesus was hurt in these stories. Oh, except for the time Florence ate his legs. But she also ate two sheep and a camel’s bottom.

Sometimes you need the wood to clear so you can see the trees.

I could write stories. I have written hundreds of stories, long short, very short, very long. Some of them have never been shown to the world, some of them are somewhere in the ether on social media. But only a handful have made it into a book. Why? Because I didn’t think they were good enough. 

On Sunday I spent the day scrolling through my Facebook post to re-read all the Baby Jesus exploits from both Beatrix and Florence. I was lost again. Lost in my memories. Lost in my giggles. Lost in my tears. I realised that I write my thoughts down all the time to be read by others. To make people laugh. To help people shed tears they are holding on to. To help people recognise their own strengths, weaknesses and fears through my words.

I didn’t need to write 100 stories. I’ve already written them.

That was the day I realised I had accidentally found the book I’d written.

But then I realised it wasn’t just one book. It was two. 100 Stories is a book worthy of being published and read. The Nativity Gang stories are a book in their own right. Baby Jesus, with Beatrix and Florence as the villains. But here’s the thing. In one post from December 2017, I discovered the truth. Perhaps Beatrix and Florence have been wrongly blamed, and Mr M is the real culprit. This is what I found lurking as the last paragraph of a long Facebook post dated 27 December 2017:

Oh, and whilst I am telling you about Mr M, you will never guess what I heard him saying to Beatrix last night. “Go bring Baby Jesus”. That’s right! Well, can I tell you that Beatrix looked at him and looked at me and said, “No way, Dad, she will see me!”

Now I have two books to pull together. But I need some help with the titles. I had thought for the 100 stories:

100 Ways To Know Debra

But that would mean when I put my name as the author on the cover, it would be overkill with Debra. So I need a different title. I’d like it to be 100 Ways to….. Any suggestions. And, if I pick yours, you’ll get a signed copy of the book as a thank you.

Then the Nativity Gang book. Florence suggested:

Much Ado About Nothing

But that’s not doing it for me. Any suggestions? And again, if I pick yours, you’ll get a signed copy of the book as a thank you. 

Final thing. I know it’s last-minute for you reading this, but tonight I’m at Bearsden Library talking all things books. I’d love to see you there.

Click here to reserve your place for the Bearsden Library Talk

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about how my writing mind works and discovering with me that I absolutely love to write.

Please leave a comment on the blog and let me know.

Thank you.

Debra x