I Wrote My First Book At 21.

My journey to accomplish my primary goal in life.

In June 2018, I opened a word page and stared at it for what felt like hours; I started typing and after finishing a page or two; I realized I wrote about the life story of a family member, a story I was hearing ever since I could remember, so I wrote a book about it.

Before I began writing the complete story, I got my notebook and picked up a pen and wrote every detail I would need, from names, dates to places, I put everything down before I started the extensive work. At first, it seemed impossible, since the only thing I wrote before was a bunch of short stories that I never shared with anyone.

To make it interesting, I wrote the entire book as a diary, which was very hard to do since the last time I had a diary was in middle school. It felt great connecting all of those events and filling the gaps using my imagination; I had to fill in half of the story because no one knows what had really happened.

3 months after starting, I had to take a break; I started school and couldn’t keep writing, a month later I started working and I couldn't write. I worked the entire week and went to school during the weekend. My plate was overflowing, not just full.

The funniest part about this is that I was studying something that had nothing to do with writing, I studied mobile apps programming. It felt wrong to work through my dream (which is becoming a published author) when I was studying something that brought me nothing but stress and anxiety!

A month after getting my bachelor's degree and quitting work, I started blogging. It was fun, but it wasn’t what I wanted, yet I had to accept my fate.

In October 2019, I started an internship in my major; it was pleasant but so stressing and I felt lost, very lost.

5 months later, the pandemic broke in my country which led to a complete lockdown, that’s when I turned to writing again, and it just made sense, everything clicked, I don’t want to program anymore; I told myself, so I never went back to the internship, I didn’t even call them.

I started working on my book again; it felt magical; I loved how I wrote about the story I heard in every family gathering. I became part of that story, and that’s when I knew for sure I was born to write. This was my destiny!

On August 6th, at exactly 3 am, I wrote the last chapter, finishing my very first novella. I sent this picture to a dear friend of mine. Then I cried for about 15 minutes because I knew I made the first step towards achieving my dream.

It was hard to write, even if it was entertaining. I can’t count how many times I said f*ck it and wanted to give up, how many days I went without writing, I was so close to giving up on my dream, which would’ve been miserable.

I had to maintain a tight schedule; I made myself write for hours, I only took breaks to go to the bathroom, I made deadlines with myself and it was hard to commit, but I did.

4 months after writing the last words and I’m still not ready for the world to read my work, I need to make some slight adjustments before starting the next journey.