Welcome to the third iteration of what I guess is now a series.

I initially started this as a way to talk about writing, but I suppose I’m now using it as a blanket term to talk about whatever I want. In Vol. 2, I had just finished my second year of university and was reflecting not only on that, but on 2025 as a whole. Now, my break is almost over and I’m preparing to go back to uni for my third (!!!) year.

I had a really lovely Christmas and New Year’s. I was away camping for New Year’s Eve, which is always my favourite way to spend it. Camping will forever be my happy place. There’s something about getting away from civilization to go stay in the middle of nowhere and be surrounded by nothing but nature for a few days that has the ability to relieve me of all stress. But simultaneously, one of the best parts of the camping experience is coming home with a newfound appreciation for your own bed, your own shower, and the mere existence of air conditioners.

I ended up working way more in December and January than I thought I was going to, because of both the holiday season and then covering for people on annual leave. I’m fully aware this is going to sound pathetic, but as someone who has only ever worked part-time because of school and/or uni, working 5 days a week was a bit of a shock to the system. You knock off, drive home, have dinner, close your eyes, and when you open them again, you’re somehow already back at work with no memory of how you got there.

I am somebody who loves slow mornings. Slow mornings are sacred to me. I love waking up early, taking my dogs outside in the fresh air, making myself breakfast, and then sitting in bed in my pyjamas on my laptop while slowly sipping away at an iced beverage of some kind. I said earlier camping is my happy place, but laptop in bed time is a close second. The best thing about slow mornings is how quiet the house is, because the rest of my family are either still in bed or already at work. I live with six other people, so I must always make the most of the quiet moments.

During this time period of working more, 5 of my 7 slow mornings a week were taken away from me. Didn’t love that. But at the same time, it made the two slow mornings in the week I did get even sweeter. By becoming a rare occurance, I appreciated it more. Nonetheless, I’m happy to be getting back into the swing of things. I feel like my life has been on a higher intensity setting since October, because I went straight from end of semester rush to exam season to holiday season to working full-time.1 It has truly been one thing after the other for the last four months. I have a few weeks between now and going back to uni, and I intend to enjoy them. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to life slowing down for a little bit. And then once I’m settled into my new classes, finally, a sense of normality can return.

I am not someone who really partakes in new year’s resolutions anymore. Honestly, why set myself up for failure? In 2025, I set myself only one goal, and that was to improve both my physical and mental health. Did I achieve my goal? …kinda? Did I improve in small ways? Yes. Did I improve as much as I would’ve liked? No. However, I do have some vague ideas of things I would ideally like to do in 2026.

One such vague goal for 2026 is to romanticise life more. In September of 2024, I posted a piece towards the end of my first year of uni called “feeling lost (a rant),” in which I said this:

“I’ll admit: throughout both primary school and high school, I romanticised the idea of university. I had this idea in my head that I’d go for a quiet and peaceful walk through the town square every morning with a coffee in my hand, a croissant in the other, and an audiobook in my headphones, before heading off to my lectures for the day where I’d take neat, organised notes and I’d make so many friends in all of my classes and be surrounded by like-minded people who were also passionate about books and literature and writing and blah, blah, blah. So far, this has not been my experience whatsoever.”

As I go on to say, that was not my experience because my first year of university ended up being entirely online, and even though I didn’t know it at the time, so would my second year. I was re-reading this post the other day (because I narcissistically love to re-read my own posts), and I had the epiphany… there’s nothing stopping me from doing that. There’s literally nothing stopping me from getting up early one morning, going to town, getting a coffee and a croissant, and going for a walk while listening to an audiobook. Though I don’t exactly know why I’d do that because I don’t drink coffee nor do I like listening to audiobooks.2 I mean, no, I can’t then abruptly show up to some random lecture for a class I’m not enrolled in, but I can do it before going to study at the library.

In August of last year, I wrote a post called, “learning to appreciate the current chapter,” where I talked about feeling stagnant in my life and also my worries that my life is boring. This is where I’m hoping romanticising the mundane will help. I think a lot about that one Joan Didion quote, when an interviewer asked her about the very intentional way she lived her life, mentioning that she uses her good silver every day, and to this Didion responded: “Well, every day is all there is.”

So many people sit around waiting for their life to begin. They convince themselves that once they have this thing or that thing, then they’ll finally be happy. They convince themselves that they have to wait for the right moment to do certain things. I fear this is something I’m guilty of. Even though I’m not a teenager anymore, I don’t think it’s fully clicked in for me yet that I have free will. I have my own car. I have my own money. I don’t need permission to do things. If I want to drive to the beach one random afternoon, I can. If I want to go to some random quaint little town and spend the day exploring, I can. If I want to have ice cream for dinner, goddamnit, I can.

I also think I need to let go of the idea that I can only do these things if I’m doing it with other people. I don’t need to wait around for somebody else to want to come to the beach with me, I can just go to the beach. I love solo road trips anyway because I can sing as loudly and as terribly as I please and no one can complain about the fact that I’m playing exclusively Taylor Swift and showtunes. Last year, I went to the movies on my own twice, and that is something I’ve been trying to work up the courage to do for years. Do you know how many movies I’ve missed out on seeing in cinema because I didn’t know anyone else who was interested in that particular film and I was too chicken to go on my own?

One of the times I went on my own last year was to watch Hamilton, when they did a theatrical release for its 10 year anniversary. I knew I couldn’t miss the opportunity to watch it on the big screen, but I also knew no amount of bribery would convince anyone I know to sit through three straight hours of a musical with me. So I went on my own. And guess what? Nobody cared! I don’t know what it is with so many people my age acting as if it’s embarrassing to be seen out in public on your own. The reality is that no one is paying attention to you because they’re too busy paying attention to what they’re doing, just like you are.

But really, I think it more so comes down to the little details. If I’m stuck in my room because I have an assignment I really need to finish, something as small as lighting a candle and putting on a vinyl to quietly play in the background can add so much. It shocks me sometimes how much small actions can have such a big impact on my mood. Sometimes when I’m feeling a little off, the simple act of tidying my room, or having a shower, or going for a walk around the block can make all the difference.

Last year, I got into the habit of having a “Monday Reset Day.” Every Monday, I had a list of tasks that would set me up for the rest of the week. In the morning, I would have a hair-washing shower. Then I’d go to the supermarket and top up on groceries for the week. Then I’d come home and dust my shelves, vacuum my floor, water my plants, and take out the rubbish bin under my desk. You’d think these seemingly tedious tasks would make me dread Mondays. But on the contrary, Mondays quickly became my favourite day of the week. The idea that no matter what happened the week before, I could just push the reset button and start again by doing these tasks that help me feel more organised and clear-headed for the rest of the week was a game changer.3

While we’re on the topic of romanticising life, another one of my vague goals for 2026 is to start a photo album. There was this whole trend last year of “bringing back physical media,”4 mostly in terms of CDs and books and such, but the thing we really ought to be bringing back is physical photos. You know how you go to your grandparents’ house and they have entire walls and shelves filled with photo frames? We need to bring that back. At the bottom of our linen cupboard, my mum has stacks and stacks of photo albums she made in the early 2000s. Why don’t we do that anymore?

Also, here’s something I’ve learned. It is so cheap to print photos. At the place I’ve printed photos before, it costs 15 cents to print one photo. So if you have this idea in your head that printing photos is expensive, like I did, it’s not. Months and months ago, I bought a big scrapbook to turn into a photo album, but it quickly became one of my many abandoned projects. But I am determined to circle back in 2026. Last year as a birthday present, I got a second-hand olympus camera. I have wanted to own a proper camera for years. As I’m sure you can surmise, it was always the price of them that held me back. But despite me daydreaming about owning a camera for years, other than taking it to the beach a few times and bringing it camping with me, I did not use my camera as much as I thought I would. Another thing I would like to revive this year.

The next vague goal is daresay the most common new year’s resolution you will see nowadays, and for good reason. I don’t know who needs to hear this but… it really is the damn phone. Yes, this is officially becoming one of those “phone = bad” Substack think pieces. In the last few months, but especially since I finished uni and that’s not taking up such a large chunk of my time anymore, I’ve become acutely aware of just how addicted I am to my phone and also how my phone makes me feel. ‘Social media’ is almost like a dirty word now, but I don’t think social media is inherently bad; I think it entirely depends on the type of social media.

I’ve never had Instagram. That’s the big one I’ve never succumbed to. I really only have Facebook to keep in touch with extended family and people I went to school with, so I don’t use it that much. I do watch quite a lot of YouTube, but I don’t watch much TV anymore, so YouTube is really my main source of entertainment these days. But it’s not like I’m on there doomscrolling YouTube Shorts; the vast majority of YouTube videos I watch are between 30 to 50 minutes long, be it a video essay, or a writing vlog, or a music review. This may be controversial to say, but Substack is 100% social media. But I don’t feel like I’m losing brain cells when I’m connecting with others on here or reading long-form written content. YouTube and Substack don’t make me feel bad.

The only two ‘problem apps’ for me are Twitter and TikTok. Twitter and TikTok make me feel bad. Those are the two apps that make me feel as if my brain is turning to mush, and yet I can’t seem to loosen the grip they have on me. You always feel so good when you first start scrolling and get that initial boost of dopamine. But the more you scroll, the more things you see that make you feel mad or sad. The more you scroll, the worse you feel, yet you can’t seem to bring yourself to just flick out of the app, because there is still a part of your brain that is enjoying the constant stream of entertainment and information. I’m telling you, it can’t be good for our brains to have access to a never-ending stream of entertainment that is just at our disposal whenever we want.

Additionally, the communities on Twitter and TikTok are so much more toxic than those of YouTube and Substack. If you’ve spent any time on TikTok recently, I’m sure you’ve noticed TikTok comment sections are becoming unbearable. People on TikTok are so mean-spirited. You’ll watch a perfectly normal video, make the mistake of opening the comments, and just see hundreds of people being unabashedly awful. I know what you’re thinking: If Twitter and TikTok are so bad, why not just delete them? Believe it or not, there are still positive sides to them.

There are some genuinely creative and original and funny creators on TikTok that I’d like to keep up with. Similarly, I love the fandom aspect of Twitter. Last year when new episodes of The Summer I Turned Pretty dropped every Wednesday, the first thing I did after finishing an episode was jump on Twitter to see what everyone was saying. I did the same thing this past month when new episodes of Percy Jackson were premiering. If not for Twitter, how will I know what people are saying about my silly little comfort shows?

One bad habit I definitely want to kick this year is checking my phone first thing when I wake up. I know looking at a bright glowing screen in a dark room as soon as I open my eyes cannot be good for me. Not only is it probably not great for my eyes, it’s definitely not good for my brain.

By using my phone less, ideally I’ll have more time for other things, which leads me to my next vague goal for 2026. I want to prioritise my hobbies more. I hate that when life gets busy, the first thing to always fall right to the bottom of the priorities list is hobbies. Lord knows I don’t need to spend more time writing than I already do and I consider writing to be less of a hobby and more of a way of life and part of the essential fabric of my being, but there are other things I’d like to devote more time to.

Back in 2020, one of the ways in which I kept myself amused throughout lockdown was by teaching myself how to play the guitar. It was something I really fell in love with. I would play for hours on end until my fingers couldn’t take it anymore. However, as the years passed and life got busier, I stopped playing as much. For the last few years, my guitar has been a relic that grows dust in the corner of my room, only to be picked up and played once every blue moon. Every time I do pick it up, I’m reminded of why it was something I fell in love with in the first place, and I think to myself, “I should do this more.” But then I just… don’t.

Similarly, when I was around 14, I decided I wanted to get into painting, so I went out and bought the cheapest acrylic paints and paintbrushes I could find. I didn’t do any research on ‘painting techniques’ or anything like that, it was truly a matter of trial and error and slowly learning what worked and what didn’t. After a while, I went out and bought watercolour paints, and that was how I learned I much prefer watercolour to acrylic. But again, as the years passed and life got busier, it became something I did less and less.

I can’t help but wonder if my perfectionism has partially gotten in the way of these things as well. I have no intention of ever becoming a musician. I have no intention of ever becoming an artist. So who do I feel the need to impress? I don’t have to be good at the guitar, nor do I have to be good at painting. All that matters is if I find them fun and creatively enriching.

Simultaneously, I think it would be an oversimplification to say if I cut back on my screentime, then I’ll naturally spend more time on my hobbies. It’s important to remember that things like playing guitar and painting require more effort and energy, which is why I don’t gravitate towards them as much when life is busier. When I get home after a long day at work, I don’t think to myself, “hmm, you know what I’d love right now? To learn a new song on guitar. Or better yet, to drag out all my paint supplies, spend several hours painting something, and then go through the process of cleaning my art supplies.” No, when I get home after a long day at work, I want to lay in bed and move as little as possible while using my brain as little as possible. It just so happens that scrolling on TikTok requires very little brain capacity.

I know for someone who said they don’t do new year’s resolutions, it sure seems like I just listed a ton of them, but because I threw the word vague in there, it doesn’t count. That way if December rolls around and I haven’t done any of these things, I can say I never really intended to do them anyway.

If you have any vague (or clear!) goals you’d ideally like to focus on in 2026, I’d love to hear them in the comments below.

Until next yap,

- Lilly :)

3

When I was researching tips on how to romanticise life, and by research, I mean watching YouTube videos on it, I saw someone say to “soundtrack” your life by creating specific playlists for specific things. I had great fun doing that. I’m saying this purely because I wanted to share the playlist covers I made for my “soundtracks” tehe

I mostly use my Substack to yap about music and pop culture, but every now and then, I like to sprinkle in some ‘treating Substack like my personal diary by oversharing on the internet in ways I’ll probably regret years down the line.’ This is one such post.

I’ve noticed that whenever I write a journal entry type post on here now, I feel the need to clarify that I don’t think my life is all that interesting and I’m only writing about it because I felt compelled to, because over the last several months, there has been a “nobody cares about your personal essay” movement on Substack. But then I realised… I care about people’s personal essays. I love reading life update/diary entry type posts on here, it’s one of my favourite kinds of posts to read, and I know other people also love to read such posts. So you know what? Screw the “nobody cares about your personal essay” people! It annoys me so much when people on here are like: “I hate listicles. I hate personal essays. I hate “in defense of” posts. I hate “for the love of” posts.” If you hate them, don’t read them. It’s that easy. You know what I hate reading? Your whiny complaints.

Now that that’s off my chest, I can finally yap away to my heart’s content.1 As I am writing this, I have officially wrapped up my second year of university, which means I am now 50% through my degree. I don’t know how that happened. If the next two years go anywhere near as fast as the last two have gone, I am in trouble, because the idea of graduating is terrifying. I think I’d rather stay a student forever. Please, for the love of god, don’t make me get a 9-5.2

Back in February, I wrote a post (linked above ⬆️) right before semester 1 started, and in it, I talk about the burnout I experienced towards the end of last year, and how I wanted to apply myself more this year while still avoiding hitting the point of burnout again. Now having made it to the end of the year, I think I succeeded. I went into my first year of uni with a “I’m just gonna wing it” mentality, which I suppose is excusable given it was my first year, but this year I put in more of a conscious effort to plan things out and be organised.

Devestating news, but as it turns out, time management actually works. Turns out when you actually put in the effort to manage and structure your time, it does indeed make a difference. I know, I’m just as shocked as you are.

In all seriousness, there were less moments this year where I felt like I was drowning in a never-ending to-do list like I did at so many points last year, so that is an overall net positive. Consistency is something I’ve always struggled with in this past, but it’s one thing I’ve improved on this year. I’ve been pretty consistent in going for a jog once a week, and making my lunches more instead of just eating some pre-packaged shit, and actually keeping my damn room clean. You guys, I think I’m starting to adjust to this whole ‘being an adult’ thing.

So I’m doing both a Bachelor of Arts and a Master of Teaching, and one of the great things about a BA specifically is that it’s a very broad degree that gives you a lot of electives. In the two years of my degree, I have been able to dip my toes into so many different disciplines. For example, last year, in addition to the 3 English units I did as per my major, I also did 2 psychology units, 2 business units, and a photography unit. This was a somewhat hit and miss endeavour.

I did psychology in both Year 11 and 12 and I chose to pursue it further because I find it to be so incredibly fascinating, but it is also such a difficult area of study. I love the content of psychology, but the assignments… there’s just something about the process of writing a science report that majorly disagrees with my brain, so there will be no more psychology in my future. But if you’re a psychology student — major respect to you. I had for some reason always been drawn to the idea of studying business,3 and even though I did well in those two classes, I’ve come to learn business isn’t for me, though some aspects were definitely interesting. The photography class I have no notes for. That was great.

In semester 1 of this year, I had to do a certain amount of units under the Humanities and Social Sciences banner in order to qualify for it being my second teaching specialty, so as a way to make it interesting, I purposefully chose three different units from three different disciplines that I knew essentially nothing about, namely, philosophy, geography, and classics.

I went into my human geography class lowkey expecting to hate it, and it ended up being my favourite class of the semester. I’m convinced my lecturer for that class was some sort of mad genius. He was eccentric and kinda strange, but also so knowledgeable and wise and unbelieveably passionate. Honestly, that’s kinda everything I aspire to be as a teacher. At least once per lecture, he would go on an impassioned rant about capitialism, and I can’t lie, he’s iconic for that. I also really enjoyed the classics class that I did, so much so that I did a second classics unit in semester 2. The first one I did was focused entirely on ancient Greece, while the second one was focused on ancient Rome. I knew reading Percy Jackson at 15 would come in handy someday.

Funnily enough, the class I was expecting to like the most, philosophy, was the only one I actively disliked. Did I think I was going to like an ethics class purely because I really enjoyed The Good Place? Maybe. I’m sorry to all the philosophy lovers in the room, but if the required readings from that unit taught me anything, it’s that philosophers have such a unique ability to waffle on about utter nonsense for five straight pages before reaching any kind of point. Again, I’m so sorry to any philosophy enthusiasts reading. I’d love to be converted, so please try your best to convince me otherwise.

In the second semester, I did my very first teaching unit, and thank god, I really enjoyed it. It would’ve been quite awkward if I finally settled on a career path and then discovered I hated learning about it. For the next two years, I’m essentially going to have no more electives because my timetable will be entirely filled up with the teaching and core English units I have to do, but I’m so happy I took the chance to be experimental while I could. I have loved getting to explore so many different areas of study over the last two years, regardless of if I enjoyed them or not. Obviously, English is my one true love and always will be, but I just really love learning. I love learning new things. That’s why I’ll never understand people who are just so incurious and have no desire whatsoever to learn more than what they already know.

Now that semester is well and truly over and I’ve handed in all my assignments, I’m trying my hardest not to fall into the trap I do every year when school ends. It’s very jarring to have this one big thing take up a huge chunk of your time and energy, and then all of a sudden, you don’t have to worry about it for the next four months. It’s jarring to have this one thing give your weeks and days structure, because when it goes, there is suddenly nothing for you to structure your life around. So whenever school wraps up for the year, I tend to flail around and panic a bit because I don’t know what to do with all the free time and brain capacity I now suddenly have.

But now that I’m on break, there are certain things I’ll gladly be able to dedicate more time to. Like my hobbies! I’ll be able to read more, and do more art and craft, and maybe once or twice I’ll even pick up the guitar that gathers dust in my room, or god forbid the keyboard under my bed that my 16-year-old self spent all her savings on and learnt a handful of songs on before losing enthusiasm. But most of all, I’m glad I’ll be able to dedicate more time to my writing projects.

In the first Writer Diaries post I did back in July, I talked about finishing up the third draft of the book I was working on, and how I was going to start my next big project. I’m still working on the first draft of that one, but I’m now up to the third act, so I’ll definitely be starting the second draft at some point before the year is through, which is really exciting.

2023 and 2024 were both really formative years for me. 2023 was my final year of school, so I was laser-focused on getting a good ATAR, which is something you need in order to go straight from school into university in Australia. On top of this, I was also starting at a brand new school. And on top of that, the same week I started at a new school, I also started at my very first job. I also celebrated my 18th in 2023. In 2024, I started my first year of university, finally got my drivers licence after years of working towards it, started this very Substack, and also saw Taylor Swift live in concert for the first time, and yes, I consider that a notable life event.

In comparison, 2025 has been… quieter. Not necessarily in a bad way. But not necessarily in a good way either. I think that’s part of why I struggled with feeling stagnant in my life earlier this year, which I talked about extensively in a piece I published back in August (liked below ⬇️). In saying that, I have a gut feeling 2026 is going to be a big year for me. My biggest goal for 2026 is to get a new job, and hopefully one that is actually related to my area of study, namely, education. The other week, I even updated my resume, and mind you, I haven’t touched that thing since 2022. I’ve been working the same customer service job for the last three years now, so I’m ready for a change.

But of course, I’m also excited to be able to dedicate even more time to Substack in my break. I wish I could say I have some really exciting pieces in the works, but that’s not true. My ideas tank is unfortunately pretty low at the moment. I have made a start on both a 2025 music wrap-up and a 2025 reading wrap-up, but I feel as if I legally have to wait until at least December to post those. I need to get out of the habit of just being like “ok year’s over” as soon as it hits November. I also may or may not have two Taylor Swift related pieces I’m working on. It’s not my fault most ideas I have seem to involve her somehow. But fear not, neither of them are about Life of a Showgirl. Instead, both are ones where I’m zooming out and focusing on Taylor’s discography as a whole, but that’s all I will say for now.

To tie this all back up to the point I was making earlier, I love reading personal essay/journal entry/life update type posts on here because, and forgive me if this sounds weird, it reminds me that the people I’m talking to and interacting with on here are actually real people. Real people with real lives that are complicated and layered and messy. So please, write that personal piece about your own life and don’t listen to the people who complain about everything anyway.

If you haven’t already, feel free to read the first post in what I guess is now a series:

Also, I love chatting to people in the comments, so if you wanna tell me all about your goals for 2026, or your time at university, or your current writing projects, or whatever else, I’m all ears.

Until next yap,

- Lilly :)

It’s been a while since I’ve written a ranty personal piece on here. I’ve written a lot of music pieces lately (and I’ve got more on the way!!), which is great, because music is one of my favourite things to write about, but I’ve missed yapping and ranting about my life, even if no one finds it interesting besides myself.

One thing I’ve used Substack for quite a bit is documenting my experience at university. I’m halfway through my second year, but I’m currently on break, which I’m enjoying, but I am already missing uni. I’m studying a Bachelor of Arts, through which I’m majoring in English and Writing and minoring in Humanities and Social Sciences. And I just recently got the results to say I’ll be able to officially start my Master of Teaching next semester (!!!). So at the end of my degree, I’ll be a fully qualified secondary school teacher.

But just because I’m also pursuing a career in teaching, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my dreams of having a career in writing. I’ve briefly mentioned a couple times on here that I’ve been working on a book. I’ve mentioned it a few times in a Note or made a throw away comment in a post here and there, but every time I’ve mentioned it, I’ve been incredible vague and distant. I’m saying this because I’ve recently realised something: I’m being way too secretive about this project. I’m being too guarded, and holding it too close to my chest.

I’ve always been protective over my writing. Part of the reason why I wanted to start a Substack in the first place is because I had a fear of other people reading my writing. If I ever wanted to have a career in writing, I knew that had to change. Substack has been a really effective way for me to get out of my comfort zone and face my fears. I truly am endlessly appreciative of the little community I’ve found on here. I love having a place where I can talk to other people about the latest pop album, or the book everyone is reading, or what everyone’s current writing project is.

As much as I love having a self-publishing platform like Substack, one of my writing goals for this year is to try and get something published in a more traditional way, like an online magazine, so I can experience what it’s like to have someone else publish my writing. But back to my book. I am the only person who has read it. No one in my real life knows about it, only the never-ending void that is the internet, which works, because no one in my real life knows about my Substack either.

I was watching a video Ana Neu made, who is one of my favourite writing YouTubers, where she hired an editor on Fiverr to give feedback on her first 10 chapters. The thought crossed my mind of doing something similar, but I was immediately filled with so much fear at even just the thought of it. I realised it scared me so much because having someone else finally read this project after literal years felt too real. For years, this has been my little secret. My secret project that is mine all mine; the one that I have spent countless hours working on in secret, pouring all my energy and passion into. It’s nice to think of the mere sentiment of having written a book. It’s not so nice to think of actually doing something with it.

To have someone else finally read it would be opening myself up to the possibility of my happy little bubble being popped. Opening myself up to the possibility of all my fears being confirmed: What if it’s bad? What if the story doesn’t work? What if it’s riddled with plot holes and flat characters and bad prose? What if I’m not actually as good a writer as I thought I was? What if I’ve overestimated my own abilities and the fact that I ever thought I could write a good book is laughable? What if I’m really a fraud? I know I’m not the only writer who suffers from a similar sort of imposter syndrome.

Yes, I have moments where those sorts of doubts creep in. But I also have moments where I truly believe in the story I have written. I have moments where I believe in the characters and their journeys. I have moments where I believe that I may very well have written something of worth. The doubts creep in, but then I read over the manuscript, and I think to myself: There is something here. There is something good here, I can feel it. I need to learn to trust myself more. Trust not only my abilities as a writer, but my instincts as a reader.

I think the first step in overcoming this fear is breaking down the wall of secrecy a bit more. So I’ll be less vague: I’ve written a fantasy book. It’s a stand-alone, not part of a series, which I know is uncommon for the fantasy genre. It’s also a fantasy book without a romance subplot, which again, is becoming rarer and rarer for fantasy these days. I first came up with the idea for this story back in 2021, when I was 16. I wrote the first five chapters, then lost steam. Probably because I tried to write it without plotting it first. I am many things, but a pantser is not one of them. Even though I shelved it to focus on other projects first, I always kept the idea at the back of my head because I knew, even then, that I wanted it to be my first book.

As promised, I circled back to the project in October of 2023 and began plotting it before actually writing it. I spent four months outlining the story, before starting the first draft in February of 2024. I finished the first draft in June, so another four months, and almost immediately started working on the second draft. I finished the second draft in early October. I find it so funny that I spent roughly four months working on the plotting stage, the first draft, and the second draft. Especially considering 4 is my lucky number.

After I finished the second draft, I printed it out, put it in a binder, then stuck it under my bed for three months. In those three months, I did not allow myself to open the binder, or even open the document on my laptop. I even tried to limit myself from thinking about the story. I wanted to come back to it with completely fresh eyes. In January of 2025, I opened up the binder for the first time in three months and, with a red pen and highlighters in hand, edited the hell out of that thing. After I did that, I used those notes and edits to make a start on the third draft.

Cut to today. 22 months after I began this endevour, I have now finished the third draft. As soon as I did, I looked up from my laptop, looked around the room, and thought… what now? Don’t mistake me, I still don’t think it’s ready-for-the-world-to-see level of polished, but I think, for now, it’s as good as I’m gonna get it without the outside help of editors or even just a second pair of eyes. As I already touched on, I’m a little wary to trust the quality of it, because of the fact that I am the only person to have read it. It’s moments like these where I wish I had a trusted writer friend with whom I could ask for feedback and swap drafts with.

I’m feeling bold, so I’m even going to include something I made on Canva a while back, which includes the codename I’ve given the project (because codenames for WIPs are fun, can’t lie), a mood board, and a handful of songs I feel are representative of it (yes, most of the songs are by Taylor Swift, and what about it). I like associating colours with things, and as I’m sure you can tell, this book is very purple in my mind. Anyway, here it is:

I’ve decided my next course of action is going to be to do it all over again. I’m going to move onto my next book idea. Last year, I went to a writer’s workshop my university put on, where we were able to talk to someone who works in publishing and ask them questions. One thing she said is that it’s never a bad idea to be working on two manuscripts at once. Part of me is sad to be saying “goodbye for now” to Project Forest. But another part of me is excited to start my next project. It’s another fantasy book, and this time, it is part of a series. A trilogy, to be more specific, and I already have all three books outlined in their entirety because I spent months doing so between the ages of 17 and 18.

I know the standard procedure for a writer upon finishing a manuscript is trying to get published, or at the very least, trying to get an agent. But I have no interest in any of that just yet. For multiple reasons. First of all, my age. I’m only 20. I’m young enough that I feel most publishers or agents aren’t going to take me seriously. I’m sure there are other people my age that have gotten lucky, but I’m not one of those people who constantly feels as if they’re running out of time. I know there’s no rush.

Secondly, I’m a university student. For the next two and a half years, my main priority and focus is making sure I get to put on that cap and gown and get handed the certificate that means I officially have a degree. If I’m going to go through what is, I’m sure, the stressful, disheartening, and at times soul-crushing experience that is trying to get published, I want to be able to place all my focus into it.

Thirdly, and this one is a bit more “woo-woo”, but my intuition and my gut is telling me that now is simply not the time for that, because I am not yet ready. Like I said, I’m only 20. I know that I have much more character growth and development ahead of me. And I know that trying to get published is a job for an older and wiser version of myself, one that has much thicker skin.

Right now, I’m content with where I am career-wise. I’ve always been a career-oriented person. When I was younger, I never daydreamed about getting married or having kids of my own. I did, however, daydream about being an author, an actress, a teacher, an academic, or whatever other thing had captured my fascination at the time. Now that I’m an adult, I’m finally able to begin chasing the things I’ve always wanted. And that’s exciting!

It excites me when I think about writing my next book. It excites me when I think about continuing to grow and build my Substack. It excites me when I think about starting my prac next year, and getting to actually be in a classroom. It excites me when I think about teaching the next generation the thing I am most passionate about in the world: the English language. Are these things equally nerve-wracking as they are exciting? Yes. But that’s half the fun.

If you’re reading this and see any similarities in your own experience, I’d love to hear about it. I’d love to hear about the writing project you’re working on, or what you’re studying at university, or your own career goals, or whatever else.

Until next yap,

- Lilly :)