I wrote another book

But does this one really count? My subconscious mind has some baffling ideas on the matter

I wrote another book. Well, another guide book. It’s called An Opinionated Guide to the Peak District. I have long found the narratives we impose on ourselves (ok, I impose on myself) fascinating. And when it comes to writing, and specifically writing books, I have somehow come to the conclusion that guide books ‘don’t count’.

All the evidence is to the contrary. Exhibit one: The picture at the top of this piece of me holding a book in which every single word was written by me after visiting 61 places across the Peak District. Exhibit two: The notebooks I filled up on said visits. Exhibit three: The contract signed with Hoxton Mini Press, a well established and fantastic independent publisher with whom I’ve also published two other titles: An Opinionated Guide to Brighton and An Opinionated Guide to Swim London.

Each of these books are available online and in actual bookshops. And for each I held an actual launch event where each one was discussed at length and then signed by me for actual people buying them.

Why then, does it all feel as if this didn’t happen? That the clear, objective evidence I have presented is incorrect?

I have a theory and it’s to do with suffering. Not in the physical or true sense. But in the idea that none of these guides involved any true struggle on my part. I pitched an idea, it was accepted, we thrashed out the inclusions in a way that was never stressful, I went away and did the writing from a place of happiness and joy, it was edited, rewritten and then sent across to be laid out. The end.

By contrast, my memoir, Floating, took three and a half years to write and research, involved extensive travel across the UK, became my all consuming passion and went through numerous near misses (which I wrote about a few weeks ago) before it became a thing. It felt hard, therefore it counted more.

Also, in my disjointed view, a written through memoir somehow has greater value than a guide book. This despite my having more readers from the latter, the same number of people telling me they have read and enjoyed them and the ongoing support and friendship of an excellent publisher who always wants to hear what’s next.

When I was diagnosed with ADHD, I was finally able to recognise how my misplaced drive for perfectionism impacted my entire life. The personal stuff has no place here. But professionally I have found it fits in with how I impose the above narrative. I was also intrigued by the idea of how the ADHD brain tends to opt out of beginning, middle and end of projects. I currently have five unfinished narrative non-fiction projects on my Google Drive, the latest, the sauna book which I shared on Substack last year. What I like about the guide books is how they impose a set structure which is the same each time. Whereas with my sauna book, I have no clue where to go as I have no structure, just an awareness of the need to research and travel.

I am genuinely fascinated too, at how I can be both objective about the very real success of getting An Opinionated Guide to the Peak District published while still being in thrall to my emotional reaction, telling me this is all a put on, a fraud and that because it wasn’t painful to make it lacks merit. I know the latter not to be true and yet still feel it deep down.

I should say that I am never not thankful, or proud, of the fact I get to write for a job. I have started viewing my professional life, especially my book work, from the vantage point of my extremely green 21-year-old self. This is what I would have termed success then, and some. So, I shall try and enjoy it and tell that voice in my head that while I will listen to its opinion, I don’t really respect it.

Anyway, An Opinionated Guide to the Peak District is available to buy directly from Hoxton Mini Press. Buy one so I can make more. Thank you kindly.