Letter to a younger self
Dear 2014 Holly,
It’s May. A mellow month in Manchester, England. You’re in the blast zone of grief after a beloved family member’s death. Bereavement stirs up post traumatic stress that you work hard to keep at bay, caused by male perpetrated violence in your past. You’re 34 years old, doing your best. You’ve known since you were 3 that you wanted to be a writer; you haven’t yet found the courage to fully commit to write the story burning in your chest.
Driven by grief and raging against your own trappings, you go into your office on this day in May and stare at the pale blue walls. You sit at your desk, look out the window at the cotton cream clouds in the northern sky, and you take the cap off your pen. You open your notebook to a clean page.
Just fucking try, you think. Just for ten minutes, see what happens if you’re driven by possibility and joy, instead of small-making fear.
Your hands shake. The support of everyone you love and who loves you is at your back. The nib of your pen hovers over the paper. After a few seconds, you watch as your hand begins to write:
In the weatherboard house at the end of the lane, nine-year-old Alice Hart sat at her desk by the window and dreamed of ways to set her father on fire.
You sit back, your heart pounding as you read your words. They feel like…something.
It’s impossible for you to fathom what’s just been set in motion. While you’re sitting there at your desk, your words drying in ink, it’s impossible for you to grasp any sense of what’s coming.
Seven years later you’ll stand under cotton cream clouds in the southern sky, on the film set of The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart. You’re a full time professional writer, watching your first novel walk, talk, and shimmer around you, fully alive in skin and flowers. Awe and wonder is at your bow; fear and post traumatic stress are still there, but have their place in the hold.
Take a deep breath, 2014 Holly. Pick up your pen again.
Just fucking try.
I’m here, humbled and grateful, walking among the blooming desert peas you planted.
Love,
2021 Holly
🦋
#OnWonnaruaCountry #JoyIsAnActOfResistance #LetterToAYoungerSelf #JustFuckingTry #TheLostFlowersOfAliceHart