February 2015 - February 2021 - ...

Some big news...

Six years ago, I had a newborn baby and a toddler. And I wrote something. That something took me on a journey I could never have predicted.

When I was a child I wanted to be a journalist like my dad. I grew up in newsrooms and I loved the frantic pace, the noise, the celebration over a great front page...

But when I began working as a journalist I realised it wasn’t anything like I imagined it would be. I felt overwhelmed and entirely unsuited to the role. Though I worked in newspapers and then at an agency for quite a few years, I always struggled with the parts of the job you have to do.

I found myself unable to stay objective and I found myself often crossing that invisible line and becoming friends with, or caring deeply for, the people who were meant to be my ‘subjects’.

I gave up on journalism, knowing there were people far more skilled than me and more suited to the job. I missed writing but felt that admitting you’re not suited to something was just what it was to be an adult.

I wanted to be a parent. Which meant I needed to be a grown up.

When we had our Eddie, I put my dreams of being a writer behind me. Being a writer felt like being an astronaut. It wasn’t just an impossible dream, it was selfish to even think I should chase it.

I struggled through, trying to be the best mother I could be. I struggled through, focusing on my baby and his health. I struggled through, and told myself that this is what it means to be a grown up.

Then our second baby was on his way and I felt like I was staring down into the deepest valley and I was heading in there alone. My husband was (and is) my partner completely, but despite all of us support, I felt lost. I was anxious, depressed, again - overwhelmed, and I just didn’t know who I was. I felt like I was running from adulthood while it pinned me down. I felt like I should know what I wanted, but I truly had no idea who I was meant to be and what I was meant to be doing.

I thought I should be better at being an adult.

I began writing, in secret. Bits of thoughts into a diary. A few words in the notes app on my phone. Then I became a little bolder and sent long texts to friends. Shared little missives to mates on Twitter. And then one day I wrote something a little longer and emailed it. Then I don’t know why, but in February 2015 I put it online.

I could say “the rest is history” because that post went on to be read by millions online. It continues, to this day, to have a ridiculous reach and I still get emails each week about it - six years on.

But the rest isn’t history. I was wandering, lost for so long, then suddenly there was some kind of overgrown path that opened up. I followed it. And I tried my best to make my way through.

The first time I saw Rants in the Dark in a bookstore I burst into tears. This was four years ago this week.

Over the past six years I have walked this path. But it has been hard. There has been some awful abuse and stalking. There has been times my posts went viral and my website crashed so it ended up costing me money I could scarcely afford. I’ve been doxxed, outed, had people call my employers and threaten my life. I’ve been burned by media, plagiarised, been bullied into hospital, had my wider family harassed at their workplaces, had photos of me shared around where people picked apart my appearance.

There were times when it was Hell. Sometimes more than the times it was Heaven.

I am not made for that kind of attention. I don’t know that there are many people who are suited to it. There’s a reason why I write under a pseudonym and why there’s no author photo in my books.

And then I suddenly wasn’t anonymous anymore…

It’s particularly hard to cope with this when “real life” has to keep going. You have to keep going to work. You have to keep picking the kids up from school after someone has called you a fat, disgusting slut.

Every few months, every year, I would stop at a new clearing and I say:

I think it’s time to pack it in.

You can’t keep doing this and working all the time. It’s too much.

It isn’t fair to keep chasing this thing - you’re going nowhere.

You had a good run but you’ve got to stop now.

I’m a very cautious person, with bills to pay, and a family to support - writing has never been my full time job. But I love it so much. I have come close to making it my real job - I quit my job after working earnestly on The Spinoff Parents for three years. Then just after I quit, mere days later, I was told we’d lost sponsorship and so there was no longer a budget to pay me to be editor.

And suddenly it was over without warning. But I just kept writing. I was lucky to have the support of The Spinoff and Penguin Randomhouse and many kind and generous readers.

I got another day job and wrote late in the evenings as my children slept beside me. When the play came into being I felt I could put all of my efforts into that. But then Covid 19 happened, destroying any chance of an Australian tour and the funds from that.

I had an agent at one point, but after turning down one too many jobs that involved selling some shit nobody needs on Instagram they let me go.

I considered agreeing to projects I’d turned down - mainly influencer work that paid enormous amounts but that I knew would make me feel dirty. But I ultimately knew that selling wasn’t something I could do.

But I loved the writing. God I loved it. I loved meeting mums and feeling like we were this secret sisterhood of no sleep. I loved hearing stories and having the enormous privilege of being able to share them.

I had a book deal but no time to write. I had a kind and loving audience but no time to respond to their messages. I had opportunities to make money writing but no ability to do them because I had a day job. I was also running myself ragged after six years of working multiple tiny jobs while parenting and treating writing as my expensive hobby.

And so, this year, I came to that crossroads again.

It’s time to stop.

Really this time.

With Facebook shafting journalists and creators, letting people abuse them every day by sending the most vile and abhorrent messages without recourse, I just felt so tired. And I felt guilty - guilty that I hadn’t made it work enough. I figured it was time, even if my heart felt like it was going to break into a million pieces at the thought of giving up on the dream.

I applied for some public sector jobs, got them - and then prepared to say goodbye to Emily Writes. And then something happened.

I asked you what I should do…

And you told me to keep going. But more than that you told me you’d help me keep going. I cried and cried reading your comments - I felt so loved, so supported. And something shifted. I realised it’s time for me to believe in myself the way you do.

I told my best friend today that I’m going to write full time. We both cried and began hugging. This has been the longest journey and seeing her pride and feeling it all sink in - it really hit me.

I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.

I’m going to write full time. I am going to back myself because of your support. I am going to write full time here on Substack - in these newsletters. I’m going to start posting here where I can control my content rather than Facebook. I’m going to build this audience so I can make this ridiculous dream come true. And I’m going to finish my book.

I’m going to say yes. And I’m going to be brave.

And just like it was back in 2015 - you’re the reason why. I’m doing it. I’m forging ahead on this path and I’m not looking back. Thanks to you. Every time you subscribe, you’re supporting me. You’re directly helping us as a family and you’re saying you get something out of my writing - whether it’s just a laugh or something more.

So - here’s to a new path. Thank you for walking with me and showing me I’m not doing this crazy dream chasing alone x

I don’t know what all of this is going to look like - I’m still working on the details. But I do know that I’ll be here on this platform. And if you want to subscribe free or paid - you’ll be helping me on my path.

What will change the most is more free content, more discussion threads here (I’m planning Friday night chats) and more time to talk to you and write about things that I think really matter x All of this will finally be free of trolls.

If it’s possible for you I’d really prefer you responded to newsletters here through the comment function instead of emailing me or responding by message on Facebook and Instagram as it can get a bit overwhelming getting so many messages on other platforms.

See you Friday (tomorrow) for a chat x And if you want to know more about Substack check out my Welcome post here!