guys write a book and forget about their blog

merky books, life update and some wise words

@elliewilliamskittennHey…hey…how yall doing…

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I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us. This feels like the first “hey big head” text. You know the one.

You convince your significant other that you both need a “break.” Fast-forward two months, and it’s now 7 pm on a Saturday, and instead of deliberating over the appropriate footwear for date night, you’re scrolling through social media.

You catch what you think is them on a friend of a friend of an acquaintance’s private but very public Instagram story. Well, you can’t really confirm it’s them, but you can recognise that oversized teal Zara flannel from anywhere.

Lonely, lost and longing for what you once had, you shoot that text, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage any form of romance. It’s a shot in the dark. It’s optimistic, some would say desperate, but it’s all you’ve got. You gingerly press send. A wave of embarrassment encapsulates you, you throw your phone into the abyss (somewhere behind your bed) and contemplate the actions that have led you to this moment.

*DING*

Where is it? What is it? Who is it? You unravel all the layers of bedding, that your device could be buried underneath. You find it on the side of the mattress next to a discarded white sock. You open the phone, confirm your Face ID and it’s… ohh… Dominos. Asking if you know they have a 2-for-1 deal this weekend.

7:38 pm. You're alone again, but now with a BBQ Meat Lover’s pizza on your lap, you get another notification.

“Lool, hey bigger head. Call me some time”

This is my big head text to you all.

---

For once, I have a legitimate reason for not uploading anything for the past few months. I was shortlisted for the Merky Books New Writer’s Prize!

Merky Books is a publishing imprint under Penguin Random House created by Stormzy to seek out and publish stories from underrepresented writers. They hold a yearly competition for budding writers to submit an extract to be shortlisted and then chosen to win a book deal. I was one of the twenty writers that were shortlisted.

It still feels surreal. I never thought of myself as someone who could write a novel but here we are.

On Thursday I submitted a larger extract for approval and who knows, maybe I will win the prize. If not, I’m just grateful for the opportunity and will continue to work in this space. Which is partly what I want to touch on for this post.

I was asked what would happen if I didn’t win. I answered that I would go back to my 9-5 job and forget all about it. No really. I move on. There will be no wailing, no bitterness, no cryptic Instagram stories and quotes suggesting injustice or nonchalance. Nothing. Why? Because at least I tried.

Failing hurts. Failing is hard. I’m numb to it. When you’ve received so many job rejection emails, failure doesn’t seem that bad after a while. It’s an old friend—someone you see on a weekday evening in central London. No words or pleasantries are exchanged. Just a gentle head nod or eyebrow raise. A gesture of acknowledgement but not validation.

I don’t fear failing, I fear never knowing.

I don’t fear not completing all my goals, dreams and ambitions. I don’t fear falling flat on my face after struggling to climb to the top. I don’t fear having ideas that are laughed at. I don’t fear making something that is absolute horror.

I fear not knowing. I fear not being able to say “At least I tried”.

A chilling image has been in my head over the past 2 months. I’m 40 years old, clocking into my corporate job, hating my life, and regretting all the choices that led me here. Hating my kids if they ever say they want to be anything creative, and being scornful to all creatives I see online, thinking about how I could have said this line better, I would have done it like this, and I should have been where they are.

I’ve met so many talented people this year. But due to the age-old issues that hit us in our twenties, fear and time, we never really reach where we want to go.

Who knows? I might never make it doing spoken word. This blog might never have the global reach that I think it could. I may never be a Times best-selling author. But I say this with all my heart: I’ll be damned if I never try.

If I get to my thirties and this all hasn’t worked out, I will happily call it a day, and focus on performing in my consulting job. I will sort out those Excel spreadsheets with a smile on my face. Tell my kids stories of how what their dad used to do back in his hay days.

I will reminisce, not be resentful.

As I Grow Older, I want to go to the grave empty not angry.

People may read this and bring up the stipulations surrounding why this isn’t feasible for them. I get it. Me too. At the start of the year, I could recite all of them, anytime anyone asked me why I was posting irregularly or had given up on spoken word. I never want to be one of those motivational, “mind over matter”, kind of guys. I’m just begging everyone; don’t count yourself out before you’ve calculated if this is feasible.

I’m sorry if you’ve been on the end of one of my rants about creativity this year. I wouldn’t push if I didn’t believe in you.

I doubt I will have another post out in 2024 so if I don’t see you again, have a great Christmas and a wonderful winter break. Stay safe and stay blessed.

Love, Peace, & Blessings.

Abs