How I Became a Writer

Me? A writer? You must be joking

I was one of those snotty nose children who always wanted to make something. I built a pond, made a treehouse and crafted my own stories before I was thirteen years old. Okay, the pond was as deep as a puddle, the treehouse was a plank of wood nailed into a tree branch, and my stories consisted of a front cover that ripped off R.L Stine Goosebumps books.

I detested school and the core subjects. I struggled in my English class and wasn’t comfortable reading pages of text. Spelling and grammar naturally became a problem and always held me back. My confidence was not helped by teachers forcing me to stand up in front of the entire class and read extracts out of a book when they knew I struggled.

Despite my near-perfect attendance, I didn’t perform well in my exams. I blindly went to college for three years and wasted my time studying a subject that failed to excite me. A law firm job in the city of London helped to grow my confidence, but I had no real idea of what I wanted to do, or what direction to go in. Then as fate would have it, something shocked me into action: The 2008 financial crash.

As colleagues were being made redundant, I decided that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to go and travel. I packed my bags, made a rough plan and jumped on a plane to Portugal. At this point in my life, I was a shy and timid 22-year-old who was trying to find his own way in the world.

Before I left, my cousin gave me some of the best advice I have ever received. He told me to keep a journal and document the events as they unfolded. At the time I smiled and nodded, telling myself that writing was a hobby for someone well educated and intelligent. Sitting at the airport, alone and anxious, I reached down to my bag and removed a workbook and pen I stole from work. Not knowing exactly how to start, I scribbled down my thoughts.

What the hell was I doing?

As the days passed by, I found myself wanting to write and document what I saw. Knowing these words were only going to be read by me meant I wasn’t too bothered about the mistakes that littered the page. In a six month period, I had managed to document every day of my trip.

This trend continued whenever I travelled. My love for writing about the places I had seen began to bore me somewhat. I found myself far more engrossed in the lives of others. Travellers were seeking adventure in which form it took and locals had a far different concept on how to live life. People told me their weird and wonderful stories and they left their mark on me. I wanted my friends to be immortalised and remembered when I read it back in decades to come.

Without being aware of what I was doing, I had become a storyteller without even realising it.

My trip to India was the real turning point in my writing journey. I was spending up to 35 hours on sleeper trains, travelling the length and breadth of the country. Reading was fun and listening to music kept me entertained. Yet, there was nothing to keep me occupied for hours on end. The magic and madness of India meant my mind never rested. With my days documented, I decided to start a new project.

Up in the Himalayas, I found myself in a town called Bhagsu, in Dirhasalama. It is a stunning location way up in the mountains. The entire place is bustling with travellers and creative people. There were wood workshops, drama classes, musical schools and artists selling their paintings and handcraft goods on the pavement. For the first time in my life, I was only surrounded by creative people.

There were jugglers, musicians, comedians, dancers. Everyone seemed to have a talent — everyone but me.

Apart from trying to learn how to lucid dream, I spent my time in a creative writing workshop run by a wonderful woman by the name of Melody Fears. Melody was a writer and had spent a year or so in Bagsu writing a book about her father who sadly passed away. It was her way of grieving with a loss that had ripped her world into two.

Melody had developed her own techniques and exercises designed to get people to think in ways they hadn’t before. She listened to my responses and encouraged me to continue writing despite my many concerns that stemmed from my days at school. That anxiety from my childhood still played heavily on my mind.

As time went on, I found myself growing in confidence. Other members of the writing workshop were fascinated by my concepts and were intrigued by the way I saw the world. It was at this point when I started to believe that maybe I did have a talent after all. I needed to hone my skills and keep practising to get better; learning to tighten up my grammar and carry on regardless.

The small project I started, turned from a hobby into an obsession. After months of writing, I had managed to complete a novel that eclipsed the 100k word barrier. Although nothing came of my first book, it gave me the confidence to go on and nurture this newfound passion.

The more I travelled, the more inspired I became. It meant I was regularly meeting new people and writing about their lives. Long hours spent on buses allowed my mind to wander too far off places that didn’t exist. My brain became overloaded with thoughts that needed transferring from pen to paper.

This accidentally manifested itself into writing short stories. I had so many ideas and concepts running through my mind that I found it impossible to focus on one storyline. When I returned home, I used writing as a medium to escape my long and tedium days at work. Bored, I challenged myself to come up with thought-provoking stories that were not what they seemed. The first story I ever wrote went by the title of ‘Number 1456212’. This short story is in a printed anthology that sits on my shelf at home.

That was four years ago. Now I can proudly say that I have had over ten stories published. My writing is continuously improving, and with the help of my trusted spell checker, those concerns that I had in the past no longer hold me back. After a month on medium, I am writing more than I have ever written. Through my own experiences, I try to create articles encouraging writers with tips on ways to improve their craft.

With this knowledge, I look to help those who are struggling to find their voice. I want to show people that no matter your skill, education or background, all of us are storytellers.

Dean Middleburgh is a writer that has had the good fortune to write for P.S. I love you, Invisible Illness, ILLUMINATION, The New North and Storymaker. Please feel free to join his community of storytellers here:

Examples of my work: