Cute photo eh? That’s my one year old blog-self. It’s been a year since I started. YES! Another excuse for a glass of my usual. But wait, it’s Wednesday – a non-drinking day… but it’s been a year! But it’s Wednesday. Doesn’t matter, I’m 51 and I give myself permission to celebrate with a full bottle of Prosecco. You’re all welcome to virtually join me!

I started this blog shortly after I turned 50 thanks to my nagging (I mean supportive) cousin Maria McKenzie, and her very patient husband Duncan. Being a web-site builder, he offered to help me out, (unaware of the fact that I have zero patience and impossible expectations…“Is it ready yet Duncan?).

Prior to launch-day, I’d been writing for about six months, and found the stories were just pouring out of me. My memoir was knocking at my door, and I needed a platform to gain some interested readers.

Having this site has enabled me to share stories about my challenges with mental health, trips to psychiatric wards (click here for the first episode), and brushes with mental health patients, doctors and nurses – fabulous people, all of them. I have been brutally raw and honest in all my posts and the feedback from my readers has been nothing short of heart-warming.

As it was Pride Month for my launch, I shared stories about ‘coming out’ in 1993 in an Ireland that frowned (legally frowned) on homosexuality. I allowed my readers to indulge in my awkward first experience with a woman. (Part one can be read here).

I told how I ran away to America having won a Green Card in the lottery, how I spent 22 years in the United States falling in and out of love with people and places, and eventually returning to Ireland to be near my family. Too many family members had passed away and my heart-strings were being pulled towards Dublin.

Just before I started my blog, I joined a group of writers on Facebook called Writers.ie, which was set up by two legends, Maria McHale and Vanessa Fox O’Loughlin. Under their guidance and the support of my new-found tribe, I gained more and more confidence in my writing. I developed a large set of steel balls – I blame Maria for that. Vanessa’s influence taught me how to be a better writer, how to ‘show not tell’, how to draw the reader into a scene, and how to keep them engaged in my stories.

In January of this year, I was published for the very first time (and got paid for it!). My essay ‘I AM BORN’ was published in Good Day, Cork Magazine which was thrilling. A few weeks later, I wrote a piece about a trip to the gynaecologist. I took my balls of steel and sent it to the founder of Funny Women Magazine, Lynne Parker. She liked it, but said it was too long, that I should prune it down, and chop out unnecessary bits. This is one of the hardest things I have learned as a writer. How to prune and chop. Sometimes it feels as if all I do is snip away with giant garden sheers.

My abbreviated (and much better) piece about the Gynaecologist visit was published a month later in Funny Women Magazine. I was flying high. I knew I could ‘write funny’, but didn’t ever believe I was ‘funny enough’. People often ask about the time I did stand-up comedy and ask me to tell them some jokes. The truth is, I’m a terrible joke-teller. I tell true stories about my life, and they just happen to be funny. I’d spent the 80’s and 90’s being obsessed with Victoria Wood, and later couldn’t get enough of French and Saunders. My addiction to ‘The Vicar of Dibley’ and ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ is no secret to anyone.

But I also knew I needed to share the tough stuff. While I can’t help but put a light-hearted twist on all my pieces, my readers notice the dark side of my stories. But we all have dark sides, don’t we? How we react to the stuff that happened to us when we were younger, is crucial to how we navigate through life as adults. I have chosen to see humour in as much of it as I can. It’s not easy, and I don’t expect everyone to do the same, but it has helped me enormously. (I still can’t believe I was smitten by the Virgin Mary for years).

My parents were particularly strict on me, so much so, that the neighbours’ kids were afraid of my mother. Their parents would threaten them with Phyllis (my mom) if they were bold. We laugh at it now. My mom has changed a lot. (I think most of our parents have changed since those stifling 70’s). My parents did the best job they could with my brother and I. There were no beatings, no being locked in a closet (although I’m really glad I came OUT of another closet years later). Granted there were wooden spoon smacks here and there, and occasional outbursts from my dad when I lost a squash match or failed Applied Maths Science in the Leaving Cert (I mean, who passes that?). I’m confident my dad loved me with every bit of him.

My mam is still alive and kicking (literally) and she loves me quite a bit. Lately, she tells me she is proud of me. Which is something she never used to say. Even at age 51, I love to hear it from her. The same way I am evolving into an older adult, so is my mother. No matter what age (mam is 78), we are both re-inventing ourselves. It’s never ever too late.

My writing has given me a very special freedom. We are all creative in some form or another, and I can’t recommend more that you find that creative side of yourself as you age. Explore it, embrace it, own it. Unlock it from deep inside yourself. Who cares if it’s crap and your paintings look like a couple of stick men, or your flower arrangement is more like a bad wedding hat? I’ve come to the conclusion that it really doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I spent far too many years of my life worrying about what other people thought of me. My people pleasing days are over, but only recently. It’s liberating. And it all started when I began to write.

Thanks to Vanessa and Writing.ie, I’ve been published several times in their on-line magazine. Adrian (Editor of Writing.ie) continues to give me a platform to share my, dare I say, ever-improving drivel. Another highlight of the year was getting published in the Irish Times Abroad in February. That attracted a lot more readers to my blog and I’ve formed some wonderful friendships with people I’ve never met. In March, I had the absolute pleasure to attend a retreat with my writing group, at Killiney Castle in Dublin. Meeting the people who had supported me for 8 months was a joy. Again, more friendships were formed and lasting relationships are being nurtured and cultivated as I write.

At the beginning of Spring, I was invited to participate in the Shine Festival, a fantastic event organized by the Shona Project. Tammy Darcy founded this organization in her sister’s honour. Their aim is to educate, empower, and inspire today’s Irish girls to become tomorrow’s strong, confident and curious young women. It was an honour to be on the Sports Stage and I had so much fun sharing my story with Sharryn Lynskey of iRadio.

Shortly after that, in April, I went to the Rebel County for the Cork World Book Festival and was selected to read the first page of my work-in-progress, a novel called Bigger Plans. What a treat to read in front of three literary agents and get unforgettable feedback from them all. I also learned about seraching for a good agent, what not to do or say, and the piece I wrote about this experience was published in Writing.ie magazine. (read some of my pieces here)

But guess what, it hasn’t all been rosy! The number of times I’ve been rejected is off the charts. I’ve submitted to all sorts of literary magazines with my short stories, some creative non-fiction, and some fiction. My first teacher, Eileen Casey, critiqued one of my earlier pieces and insisted I submit it to Sunday Miscellany. She said she’d ‘eat her hat’ if they didn’t snatch it up. Poor Eileen had a very chewy breakfast later that year when I received my first rejection. I’ve since submitted four times to Sunday Miscellany – all rejected. I’ve had some lovely feedback from editors of magazines who felt my work just wasn’t for them. Doesn’t mean it’s not for someone else. I’m lucky with these balls I have, because despite that initial sting of ‘oh my writing is absolute crap, I don’t know why I bother submitting’…I always manage to pick myself up and forge ahead.

It’s safe to say that I am that annoying writer who just won’t stop tap-tap-tapping at editor’s inboxes. With all the positive feedback I get on my blog stories from my readers, I’m sure that somewhere out there is an editor just waiting to meet me. (Granted, my head might be with the fairies, but then again fairies were always going to be part of my life…)

Val Troy, from my writer’s group, is also a very funny writer. Together we wrote a script last month that we submitted to the Funny Women Awards. We await with anticip-p-pation for a positive response. Or, another rejection. In which case we will try again.

Most recently, I took up squash after a year hiatus. And something marvellous happened. I began writing about squash. Someone once told me to ‘write what you know’, and while I realize my life antics can’t sustain me forever, I have a whole world of stories to draw from, based on the 25 year career I had as a player and coach. Last week, I was asked by a well-known international squash magazine – SquashMad – to write a piece. It was one of my better ones. Filled with self-deprecation and lots of cheekiness, it has received more attention than most of my articles. The same magazine has asked me to write a regular monthly column for them. I am elated.

It’s been a good year. I am tinkering away every day at my novel. I’m almost there and excited to share it with the world. My memoir is on hold. I’m too young and imagine there’s still an awful lot left to experience and share. I’ll finish it, but not yet.

On my 51^st birthday, my step-daughter Kira sketched me a really cool picture which I have above my writing desk. It depicts all the things she knows about me. When I look closely, there are some very subtle words and images scattered and hidden. She very cleverly inscribed the following words throughout the painting: “Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think”.

And that is my message to you all. It really is later than we think, so let’s have a bloody good time of it. Thank you for celebrating one year of blogging with me.