I am about to publish my book. It is called The Superhero I was Born to Be and it is a raw account of my self-development journey with a publisher’s polish. It has taken a lot of courage to get to this point. I am frightened what the world will think of me when they read about my darker side. I am worried that once I let the mask of my professional self slip, I will lose it forever.

So why publish it at all? Because it communicates important messages to a wider audience. It is full of things I have learnt and will tell people who ask or with whom the conversation steers that way. And I am told my messages have helped them. And so I want to spread them wider. To touch as many people as I can.

I have just read an interesting article on Facebook from a Buddhist priest who says love is understanding. To me the path to understanding is communication. How can you understand if you don’t communicate? I am an English Literature graduate and now, it seems, a writer, so I love words. But the written word can only do so much. I am increasingly aware of its limitations. Non-verbal communication is crucial to understanding. My book is illustrated in colour to communicate with the reader visually. I also hope it will encourage people to buy the book in its physical format. As a lover of both literature and technology, e-books are something I have embraced. But nothing beats the feel of a physical book in my hands. The turn of the pages. The connection is mental, emotional, and physical as I open it.

But the connection is with the book. Not the author. And this is what is at the crux of my worry. I cannot stand beside the  reader and explain what I mean. I cannot look into their eyes and see that they understand. I live in a difficult world when it comes to communication personally and professionally. My natural language is not the language spoken by others. When I do speak as me I am accused of being ‘dangerous’ or ‘unbelievable’ even though it is not my intention to be either. I feel misunderstood. To achieve what I want, I use other people’s language like a communication chameleon. I am good at it. Too good. Because my own voice has become a little alien to me. I have to ask myself if I am using my own words and thoughts or someone else’s.

The book is me. My voice. My words. My thoughts. And I am about to put that out to the world. For the first time. I hope it stirs the reader’s heart; I hope it ignites their mind; but most of all I hope it touches them physically. I hope it looks them in the eye and, in that way only a physical connection can, says …

“I understand.”

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