The most important conversation of my life took place at a Christmas lunch. I didn’t know most of the people coming, so the friend who had invited me seated me next to her boyfriend, whom I’d met a few times and got along with well.
The guests arrived one by one, food and festive cocktails were ordered, several mini conversations broke out around the long table.
“So, what are you writing at the moment?” the boyfriend asked. We’d talked about my love for writing in one of our earlier meetings.
“Nothing really. There’s this book idea I have, but it’s for later.”
“What’s the book about?”
“It’s about my struggles with mental health, how I overcame them. A memoir.”
“Cool! I’d read that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Why haven’t you started?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always thought I’d write it later, maybe in my 40s.”
“Why not now?”
I let his question linger. “I guess I could start writing it now.”
He smiled an encouraging smile. Conversation moved on, but the idea had been seeded—why not now.
Into the Light
January 2010 was when it all began—my first depression. This was followed by several others of varying duration and intensity, then a brief mania, and finally a month-and-a-half-long incarceration in a state psychiatric ward. By the time I got an entry-level job in February 2016 and stopped wearing pyjamas all day, my mental health ordeal had lasted six years.
These six years were the most troubling—but also the most colourful, not to mention some of the happiest—times of my life. They transformed me from an oblivious child into the adult whose words you’re reading. Without this six-year struggle, I don’t think I could have built for myself the life I’m living—my wonderful partner, my dream job, this contentment I wouldn’t give for anything.
Which is why I’ve always wanted to write about it. Ever since I’d reached the light at the end of my tunnel, I’ve wanted to share my story. Not so I can tell those who are struggling how it’s done—there’s no universal roadmap for this—but simply to show that it can be done. That it has been done. My only hope is for my story to help someone else see the light at the end of their tunnel, the light that for years kept me from giving up.
One week after that conversation, I started up a document on my laptop and wrote down my first notes for the book. I was momentarily inspired, but the undertaking felt too large, too overwhelming. I never started writing and the project languished, untouched, for the next few years.
But, in all that time, the seed of the idea was germinating. The book had taken root, and no matter what I went on to do or write, I couldn’t get the book out of my mind. Why not now?
The best time to start
Apparently, a memoir is supposed to be 80,000 words long. I’ve written 26,750. Most of it is rubbish and I’ll be glad to bin it—but it’s written nonetheless. I’ve got a weekly writing goal: an hour on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Shorter than last year’s four-day writing week. But I’m a better writer, a longer break means more time for ideas to crystallise, and stopping when I’ve still got more to say works wonders for motivation.
At this rate, it will take me years to have a complete first draft that I actually like. Then more years to write the second, third, fourth, however many drafts it’ll take for the story to be told just right. Then yet more years to get representation, rush the manuscript to print, market the hell out of it, sell enough copies to make a difference.
If everything goes exactly as planned, my memoir may hit the shelves in the next ten years. If I had waited until I’m in my 40s to write it, as I originally wanted to, I wouldn’t be seeing my book in print until I’m in my 50s.
Which is why I’m forever indebted to my friend’s boyfriend for that simple suggestion: why not now?
Do you have a project that you’ve been meaning to work on? Something that you want to be your life’s work, your legacy? Do you, like me, plan to do it later—when you’ve got more time, more perspective, more experience?
If the answer is “yes,” to you I say: why not now?
I gave myself a million reasons why I shouldn’t start writing my memoir until later. I’m not old enough. I’m not wise enough. I haven’t got a large enough readership. I’m not ready.
But those were all excuses. The real reason was fear. I feared I wouldn’t be able to produce the best work of my life, and that, even if I did, no one would want to publish it. I feared that I’d discover my story wasn’t worth telling. I feared that my life’s work would come to nothing. I feared I would fail.
It was fear that kept me from starting, fear that I pretended wasn’t there by inventing a million excuses to hide behind.
But when I finally started writing, a year ago, the work itself was so powerful that all those fears that for years crippled me evaporated. I don’t care anymore whether my memoir will be successful, if it will ever be read by another human. It’s enough just to sit down and write.
Writing this memoir has brought me more joy than anything else I’ve ever done. Working on it has been the most inspiring, purposeful endeavour of my life. It has infused meaning into everything else I do—my job, this newsletter, making connections, reading on the couch, hitting the gym, going for a leisurely walk.
My memoir has given me a reason to live. And I look back now at all those years delaying and daydreaming with regret. I wish I’d started earlier.
But we can’t travel back in time. All we have is now.
And there is no better time to start.
What do you think?
Three hours a week, spread across three days—that’s all it’s taking me to do the most meaningful work of my life. If you think you don’t have time to do that one thing you’ve been meaning to do all your life, that first item on your bucket list, I invite you to look deeper, see what fears are hiding behind that convenient excuse.
When will you do your life’s work?
Why not now? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this with someone who just needs that one friendly push to get started.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Coucou Val,
I laugh to die or my eyes were full of water (a try to play on words🧐) when you said " i can't float" because it does was me back then but i decided to turn my gigantic water's fear into pleasure when learning to swim and it works, my fear vanished. Hoping you can do it yourself someday with your fear of height and water, that's a great feeling. Maybe there is just nothing to fear but that's an another topic some fears are anchored very deeply.
On daily basis i only speak and think in French. Just every once in a while i text with an american friend also once a week i speak with an another brit friend half time in french and the other in english. Someday i am comfy and other days i felt so bad, terrible because the words won't come out but that's a part of the process.
I would be honored to receive a signed copy of your released book, really. I first could read it ( but do not write thousand pages😅please ) and mostly it means you would have been published and will realise one of your big dream, to be published and went on the process to write your book. I 100 % support you.
To finish this one i am happy to hear from your reply and get to write in english this alive way. Sorry it was a lot (my answer) but i so rarely write in english.
Bonjour Val,
I thought i have to leave you a comment for the writer who i added in my reading routine. By the way there are just two🙂 that's enough for me😅That's kind of tough to flashback or play forward in past shadow memories, to dip in moments where things were unpleasant and take them on but when you do it you're ready! So i think you're ready now. The why not now ? was a trigger maybe. You're brave enough and do not care anymore about what if i fail!
I am the sort of guy who's lazy in the sense i do not want to be overwhelming with strong emotions so i try to not overthinking and enjoy the little pleasant moments in life.
We/ i postponed a lot of stuff that's human but i also think the failure is not to have a try a
big win is to try whatever the results is. That's about you and not the others expectations.
Personnaly i learnt to swim at the age of 40'. It was challenging because of the water fear i put into it but once i was in the swimming pool i enjoy the moment and my fear suddenly disappeared.
Whish you the best for your book🙂 and as always hope you understand my english