Hereinafter called the Author

As I told you in my very first ever Big Words and Made Up Stories blog on 5^th November last year (https://bigwordsandmadeupstories.blogspot.com/2019/11/how-i-became-writer.html), I’ve never wanted to be anything except a writer. And for the last twelve years, I’ve been one. I even get paid.

I’m a freelancer, which means that someone gets in touch, asks me for six hundred words or so on a topic in three weeks and I do it. I’ve got a roster of clients ranging from charities to florists to builders to radio stations and I write blogs, articles and content for them as required. It’s taught me how to write succinctly, clearly and to a brief and I’ve learned loads along the way.

My life since we moved to Suffolk in 2006 has been centred around children (mine), school and work. And Mr Leigh, of course, who is a wonderful and deserving man, without whom Ruth the Writer would not be the woman she is today. I picked up my first freelance writing contact in the summer of 2008 when I was gigantically pregnant with child number three. Slowly, very slowly, I got a few more. I tootled along with three for many years until there was a sudden burst of activity a couple of years ago. Then I started my own content writing business, Contentability, and I got some more.

Picture me then in March this year, just as lock down hit. I had so many clients that I decided to start a waiting list. Hooray! And then, just like that, about 75% of them disappeared. This was no surprise as many of them were small businesses, just like me, and had to put all non-essential work on hold. Others, like The Highbury Centre in London (a guest house) had to close. The long and the short of it was that I was left with about three clients again.

I’m an optimist. At this point, I had two choices.

1.    Wail, rend my garments and plead for sympathy.

2.    Get on with it and come up with a Plan B.

I went for option two.

Lock down for me meant not having to get up for the school run, dash about from pillar to post and try to cram a quart into a pint pot. Suddenly, endless days stretched ahead of me. One day, halfway through “Pride and Prejudice” (always a go-to book), I had a thought. I wrote my thought down and it turned into a short story. I wrote six more. Creative writing. Hold that thought.

As well as this blog, I write for More Than Writers, the blog for the Association of Christian Writers. It’s a great group which has taught me huge amounts and introduced me to some delightful people. For my April blog, I decided to write a funny piece about a very annoying smug writer who brags about her success on social media (I bet you can all think of someone like that). Staring out of the window, I tried to think what this woman was called. She had to be smug, so her first name would need to start with an I. And so, Isabella M Smugge (I Am Smug) was born. If you want to read that blog, you can click here: https://morethanwriters.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-utter-joy-of-ones-craft.html.

People seemed to like it. I didn’t give Isabella another thought until it was time for my May blog. It was a more serious piece, but I thought I’d put her in there again. That was on 7^th May, a day I’ll never forget.

I was sitting up in bed with Mr Leigh sipping tea and reading the comments. Quite a number of people said they’d love to know more about Isabella. A couple suggested that I might write a book about her. I laughed. She was just a fun, throwaway character – I wasn’t going to take her any further than that. 

Suddenly, in came a message. It was from a fellow ACW member who works as a literary agent. He agreed with the comments and asked if I would like to send him two sample chapters and a story arc. He would then pitch my book to publishers for me. I nearly choked on my tea while nearly falling out of bed. All my Christmases had come at once. Tea cooling on the bedside table, I replied that of course I would be delighted to do this.

So, I did. I sat there and wrote the first sentence. And I wrote and wrote until I’d written those two chapters which was at tea time the next day. My jokey, annoying character had turned into a real person with a back story, a family and a story arc. I was as surprised as anyone.

After a few rejections, which are only to be expected, Tony emailed me to let me know that my book had found a home with Instant Apostle, a small independent publisher which specialises in new authors. People talk about dreams coming true, don’t they? I never understood that, but now I do.

Isabella M Smugge (as in Bruges), her husband Johnnie, her three children, her au pair Sofija, her awful mother, horsey Davina, her hideous agent Mimi Stanhope and a cast of supporting characters have sprung into life. I’ve got three more chapters to write and I’m done.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, becoming a published writer has been my dream since I was six. And now it’s here. I would say words fail me, but you know me well enough by now to know that’s not true. I’ll finish with the words of the contract which I must have read fifty times just in case they vanished into the mist.

Agreement – this contract made between Ruth Leigh (hereinafter called the Author) and Instant Apostle Ltd (hereinafter called the Publisher).

Hereinafter called the happiest woman in Suffolk. I’ll keep you posted.

Images by Pixabay

Ruth is a freelance writer. She is married with three children, four budgies, eight chickens, six quail and a kitten. Her first novel, The Diary of Isabella M Smugge, has just been accepted for publication and she has another one on the go. She is a recovering over-achiever who is now able to do the school run in her onesie most days. She blogs at @bigwordsandmadeupstories, covering topics as diverse as King Zog of Albania, a Christingle plagued by punch-ups and tummy upsets, and the inevitable decline of elderly parents. She has abnormally narrow sinuses and a morbid fear of raw tomatoes, but has decided not to let this get in the way of a meaningful life.