Two Years A Dream

When I wrote the final words my sense of achievement was unrivalled and the euphoria unsurpassed.

Six months of blind and unwavering dedication laid out in chapters and lines that swirled, twisted and turned, amalgamating and interacting with each other until from a mass of nothing came a story, a hope and a strange new dream. In the start of the aftermath, enthused and motivated, I cast the story out to the world for judgement and approval. Soon after praise came back and ignited a new dream burning deep within my heart and soul alike.

Those first moments when someone, a company says "You've got something that we want" were so euphoric, sheer ecstasy bathed in what seemed like the same fantasy contained within the heart of the chapters and fabric of the very story which had been sent out for judgement. However as the dust settled and reality took ahold, the ecstasy soon turned into little short of a delusion fueled by induced naivety.

Rather too quickly it was clear that the reality behind the words of praise from outside were little more than an empty veil cloaking a bad but all too alluring sales pitch. Well executed and meticulously conceived, the ruse was all too convincing but the bitter truth was little more than well scented yet stagnant water. Soon enough these companies started to refer to the labour of love as simply "The Book" an unaffectionate and uncaring "Let's turn it round and shove it out" label for something so deeply a piece of me, akin to having your own child simply named by their gender. These cruelly constructed pitches led me to question if ambitions were simply little more than delusional dreams.

Spurred on by the initial ecstasy, I committed myself to telling another tale, laid out and woven together whilst conceiving two more, yet the first real scrap of truth and blunt reality soon came. The first direct refusal of something that I had given a further eight long months of my life to creating left me looking into a mirror and questioning everything that I had come to believe. Were these just fantastical dreams fueled by ego and belief, yet with no real foundation for them to be built upon? Or were these dreams part and little more than the same fantasy contained within the very fabric of the story told?

Two years had passed and even memories of that first moment in the sun had faded so heavily that even the deepest thoughts could not bring the sensation of just how good they felt back into my mind. Continually questioned and all but mocked by all, the hopes had faded to ash slowly being cast to the dirt on the weighted breath of doubt. In the depths of that darkness as hope was all but gone a single spark came with such unexpected volition that the aftermath still hasn't become a sensation. With two years passed and all hopes and dreams lost to the wind, the sole signature marked a venture into the unknown where the deluded dreams and hopes become a reality.

Life Downside Up will become my first book to be published and forevermore conclude that for all the mocked hopes and dreams, that I am an author.