My journey with the written word began with short stories. It was a platform where fiction and non-fiction could waltz together on a page, and it transitioned into me exploring my identity in a rapidly changing world.
I was overwhelmed by personal realizations and I wrote without an audience in mind. It wasn’t well received. I was assaulted by a myriad of public reactions and forced into a shell.
So I retreated into the safe haven of business journalism. I cloaked my body in a burkha and disguised my voice in the business media. And I loved it. The opportunity to immerse myself in a genre of storytelling where principles, ethics and facts could be interwoven with colourful phrases was liberating!
From using words to tell a story, I recently reincarnated into someone that uses words to create relationships. A marketer. And I am making it my own. Kneading it to discover my purpose.
Looking back, the phases may seem like leaps connected by a thin – nearly invisible – cord. I prefer to think of them as prisms of the same crystal.
The rose quartz, I think. A tear shaped pendant of which nestles between my clavicle.
This collection of writing is from part two of my life. Part one hides in plain sight, and will come out from behind the curtain when the time is right. Part 3? That phase has just begun.