My First “Box of Books” Day

I did something quite scary this week; I tracked down a teacher I had when I was eleven years old to tell her about my book. I’m not really sure why I needed to do it, but I did.

I think I ‘d been reflecting on why it had taken me so long to start doing this stuff—writing and painting etc—and I felt that if there’d been more teachers like her during my school years then maybe I would’ve believed and tried a little harder a lot earlier.

You see, this teacher was the only teacher I ever remember encouraging me and my creativity as a child, and I wanted to thank her. You don’t realise the impact of a teacher’s influence at the time. Even in my job as a store manager, I like to think I help people grow in their retail career, and I’d love it if someone told me how much I’d helped them twenty-six years later…so I told my teacher.

We had a chat, and I told her what I was up to. And it was nice although I was a little nervous. I’m going to send her a copy of my book, and I really hope she likes it.

After that surreal phone call, the next exciting part of my week came around:

My box of books arrived!

Inside my box was one hundred copies of my book! Yep, that’s one hundred!

The box was delivered next door, and I had a late shift that day so everything was a rush. But I was so excited to collect my box that I didn’t care if I was late! There was just me home that day, and I was all excited.

It’s not as much fun when you’re excited about something, and there’s no one there to share it with so I invited my dogs and made a silly video of the occasion (check out my Facebook page to see it). I wanted to remember that moment forever. The moment it became real. The moment I’d always said I’d get to. That moment I learned I should trust myself more.

I sliced through the first cardboard box and thought I was inside, but there was another box. It was like Russian dolls or Pass the Parcel! All I wanted to do was get to my books!!

Once I finally got to them all—one hundred of them—I was again greeted by the bright colours of my shiny front cover. I had a wave of emotion come over me. It was almost like happiness mixed with pride mixed with a teeny (or maybe a lot) bit of “I told you I could and would do this.”

I still can’t spell and I struggle with grammar, but there’s help for that stuff. The imagination is all mine. The drive and commitment are all mine.

Never get written off, or worse, write your self off. Write your own story instead, whether that’s a book like I did or just what you want to do with your life.

Long live The Wotton Pack! Get your copy here.

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