Why I Write Non-Fiction

Those of you who are writers will understand when I say that non-fiction is far more difficult to write than fiction.

With fiction, you're able to hide behind a mask. Pretend to be someone you're not. Escape from the reality that's lying in front of you. It's far easier to turn yourself into the superhero you've always pictured yourself to be. It's far harder facing the truth of your life.

As with all writing, non-fiction is a way for an author to bleed on paper. Yet this particular genre makes the bleeding feel far more real. Mainly because you pour so much of yourself and your own life onto the page. No hiding behind a made-up character. No cloaking yourself in a pretend world.

Non-fiction certainly is the tougher path.

It's just you and a blank page, recounting the story of your own life.

So what exactly made me choose this hard genre to write?

Two things in particular come to mind: Relationships and mental health issues.

I've often struggled with relationships in my life, whether they be friendships or romantic escapades. I've experienced bullying and heart break - each moment significantly moulding me into the person I am today, impacting how I interact with others and how I love. I'm still learning in relationships, and I can only hope I'm making good progress (I'm sure my husband and family will assure me that I am).

Then, I've also struggled with a series of mental health episodes, that have impacted me in several ways. Not only have they helped me overcome what I thought was un-over-comable, they've also made me realise my own strength of character. From issues that went unspoken to misdiagnosed, my mental health has taught valuable lessons on how to grow and become who I'm meant to be - and hopefully, with time, what I'm supposed to do to try and help others experiencing the same.

This is where my non-fiction writing was born. In the depths of despair and wanting to give up, I found the words buried deep inside me. They both got me through all the heart breaks, as well as all the mental challenges I faced.

Interestingly enough, all these experiences have also shown me a new way to look at the world. In my series, A Series of Notes (of which the first book is published and the second is on its way), I learned the art of turning metaphors into life lessons. These metaphors are both literal - like looking at fears, friends, love, and spirituality - as well as symbolic - like walls, fire, storms, and sheep. The ordinary things we pass every day without noticing. The things that seem simple until you sit with them long enough to realise they’ve been whispering truths all along.

A wall is not just a wall. It's a barrier of protection.

Fire is not just fire. It's the fuel we need for our passions.

Storms are not just storms. They are the way we convince ourselves we can make it to the other end of the tunnel.

Sheep are not just sheep. They represent the sacredness of our being every bit human.

Writing non-fiction forced me to stop romanticising my pain and enabled me to confront it instead. Straight on. Like a train smashing into a wall. Only, there were fireworks and glitter involving in the crash. Non-fiction asked me harder questions than fiction ever could.

Why did that heart break undo me so completely?

Why did that season of anxiety feel like drowning?

But more importantly, non-fiction asked me what I was willing to do about changing my circumstances.

Writing about my past relationships meant acknowledging my own patterns of over-giving, over-thinking, over-fearing. It taught me that I was allowing my wounds to speak louder than anything else. It showed me that love isn't something that happens to us, but rather it's a process of learning - slowly, imperfectly, and courageously.

Writing about my mental health meant revisiting moments I had hoped to forget. It taught me the importance of naming experiences that are often too heavy to articulate. It showed me that there's freedom in bringing all my darkness into the light and exclaiming that it doesn't have a hold on me anymore.

Perhaps that's why I've chosen to write non-fiction. Not because it's easier. Not because it's safer. But because it's honest.

There is a sacredness in telling the truth about your own life - even when your voice shakes while doing so. Especially when it does.

The irony is that while fiction allows you to create heroes, non-fiction reveals that you already were one - quietly surviving battles no one else saw. Quietly choosing to stay. Quietly choosing to grow.

The blank page no longer feels like something to hide behind. It feels like a mirror. Sometimes a harsh one. Sometimes a gentle one. But always a necessary one.

And if there is one thing I have learned through writing non-fiction, it is this: your story does not have to be polished to be powerful. It does not have to be finished to be meaningful. It simply has to be told with sincerity.

So yes, non-fiction makes you bleed a little more openly.

But sometimes, that is exactly how healing begins. And, it turns out, the more I write, the more I learn who I am as a person and how much I've actually learned from all the experiences that have shaped me.

And if my bleeding on the page helps someone else feel less alone in their own storms, their own walls, their own silent battles, then every difficult word has been worth it.