Books Were My Escape: Writing My Saviour
Flint & Steel Full Circle Writing Challenge
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
— Maya Angelou (I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (Maya Angelou’s Autobiography, #1))
Reading for me was as easy as breathing. As soon as I could read, I had my nose firmly in a book. I would walk around in a world of my own, created by someone else. These beautiful, vibrant worlds are a million miles from my own experience.
A childhood of pain and shame was forgotten as I poured myself into places where little girls didn’t have to pretend to sleep. Or hold their breath while counting the steps hoping they would stop at another room. Instead, books became a safe place of wonder and joy, the words dancing across the page.
I used books to forget and pretend I was someone else. A girl bravely stepping through the wardrobe into the snowy land beyond or someone strong and brave. I consumed books spending many a day curled up in a chair at the library or on the floor of charity shops. Words were such a comfort to me that writing seemed like the next step.
I tried to write a few times through my teens, only getting so far before my internal voice told me I would never be good enough. I would give up, convinced they were right; why would…
