A letter to my 18-year-old self
IWD - Daisy Chain Flower Crown
Dear Creative Soul,
Two years ago today my second novel Wildflower was published in Australia. That day, I drove sixty kilometres to a library in the Perth Hills; I had been invited to be the guest speaker at an International Women’s Day breakfast. I still remember the cocktail of emotions swirling through me before, during and after the event - happy, proud, relieved, nervous, excited. Although Wildflower was my second novel published in Australia, it truly was (and remains) the book of my heart, one I was compelled to write from the moment a slight, nearly ten-year-old girl called Acacia arrived fully formed, one that I dedicated as follows:
For the women in my life - my mother, mother-in-law, stepmother, stepdaughter; my sisters, my best friend, my aunts, my sisterhood.
You have an extraordinary capacity for survival.
Acacia, and her best friend Jane (the narrator) helped me, through the pages of this coming-of-age novel, give “voice to the voiceless, and allows deeper thought and discussion about an issue that many still fail to talk about, comprehend or try to justify in a world where it still feels like we’re encouraged not to talk about certain things” (according to
). Two years on, it makes my heart sing when readers write to thank me for shedding light on a tough topic - domestic violence - through the eyes of these young girls.In 2023, Wildflower was acquired by Bloodhound Books, with audio rights going to Dreamscape Media. I share this, not as a sales pitch, but as a means to segue into a letter from the archives, a letter I wrote eight years ago to my eighteen-year-old self. A letter written when I was a book reviewer, an aspiring writer, co-director of a publishing company, a marketing officer, a freelance publicist for performance artists, yes, all of these at once. Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, would describe then-me as a textbook shadow artist:
‘shadow artists often chose shadow careers—those close to the desired art, even parallel to it, but not the art itself.’
— Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way, Week 1
I was hanging around the edges of what my inner creative desired, but I was scared to fully dive in. I found ways to work in the publishing industry but left no time to become the writer I dreamed of being. I wrote a couple of short romances for anthologies, enough to get a taste, not enough to commit. And so I remained a woman who dreamed of one day having a novel of her own published. A woman who wondered if it would ever happen. And worried about what people would think if it did.
This letter appeared first on my author friend Jenn McLeod’s website in 2016. I considered tweaking it for this piece, updating it a little, but have left it intact because it reflects who I was at the time of writing, where I was in myself. Today I share it as part of the Daisy Chain Flower Crown, “a creative act of friendship, solidarity, reciprocity and connection.”
I am smiling as I write this now - there is a scene in Wildflower where Jane and Acacia, the day they meet, run barefoot in the grass, make a flower chain and become best friends forever. And now I am smiling more … because the UK/US/Audio covers of Wildflower have a daisy on it …
Letter to my younger self
Dear Monique,
Wow, you’re 18 today. That means you can do all the things your mum said you had to wait for, like dating (bet you didn’t think she meant it when she said “18 and no earlier”), going out with your friends and finding your independence.
You’ve been a late bloomer – and your mum is right, you are too skinny – but after years of hating your hair and bemoaning your lack of curves, things are about to change. Well, the hair will – trust me, in a couple of years people will tell you how much they love your long, spiral-permed locks. The curves, on the other hand, won’t happen overnight, but they will happen.
You’ve left school behind, worked as a ride operator at a theme park over summer, and now you’re about to start university. A whole new world will open up for you. You’re going to meet people from all sorts of backgrounds. You’ll make two lifelong friends. New opportunities, dreams and possibilities will come your way. And you’re going to ask: “Do I really want to be a journalist?”. Yes, you will question the career you always thought you wanted. The choice you make will set your course for many years.
Monique, you’re a perfectionist. You may as well admit it. So, I am going to break it to you gently: you will make mistakes. You can’t please everyone. You will always try to do the right thing, but sometimes your youthful ego, innocence, inexperience, expectations and desire for peace and harmony (and stubbornness) will mean what you thought was right, really wasn’t quite right. But you are a student of life and you do learn from mistakes, so you will be okay.
And while I’ll stop short from calling you a control freak (even if you are a neat freak), your desire for harmony does mean you want to fix things so everyone is happy, even at your own expense. You’ve got to stop doing that! Trust me, you’re going to take on everyone else’s responsibilities until you are emotionally and physically exhausted. Don’t laugh. It’s true. And it will lead to even more changes. This is probably the hardest lesson you will learn in your life.
I’m not going to give you spoilers, just few tips to make things smoother.
Hold on to your dreams: Right now, you’re bursting with ideas about travel, from living and working in London, to working on a summer camp in the US, and even living in Germany to make use of six years’ German at school. You will travel, but not in the way you think. Okay, that was a spoiler, but the point is, do not give up on that dream because it will come true eventually.
Write: You were born to be a writer, just as your English teacher said. Trust yourself. Believe in yourself and tell Self Doubt to take a walk in someone else’s park. Make friends with other writers. Don’t waste precious time hiding your stories in drawers or waiting for the right time. Make that time.
Give yourself a break: You’re so hard on yourself. Stop dancing to the tunes of “Not Pretty Enough” and “Don’t Let Me Get Me” and start rocking to “F***ing Perfect” and “Try”. On second thoughts, those songs aren’t out yet, but listen out for them. The point is, stop trying to be perfect, to be everything for everyone. It’ll be easier.
Love yourself: This follows on from the previous point, but one day, you will be asked: “What do you love about you?” And you will cry because you won’t know how to answer. Let me make it easy for you. There’s a lot to love about you, from your kindness, to your openness, from your silliness to your determination. That’s the start. Ultimately, if you love yourself, you can love those around you even better.
Hold on to the little girl inside: When responsibilities overwhelm and challenges melt, don’t lose sight of little Monique. It’s okay to make up weird poems and songs in the car, to sing “Do Re Mi” at the top of your voice when you’re cooking, to tell completely offbeat stories that make no sense but are fun, and to giggle uncontrollably at times. You don’t have to be grown up all the time.
And lastly, quit worrying about what others think. Learn to be happy with yourself. Expect others to love you as you are.
Love,
Your 44-year-old self
(A woman who listened to the whisper of her soul.)
Wildflower is available in the US/UK and Australia.
Written with such tenderness, grace and sensitivity, (Wildflower) is a light in the darkness and a strong voice for the rights of all women to be safe and cherished.”
- Tabitha Bird, The Emporium of Imagination
Monique, I love these 'letter-to-self' pieces. I particularly love your choice of that period of life .18 is that milestone age where so much is expected, yet so much is unrequited. I remember at 18, for some reason, I felt the weight of the world bearing down upon me--as though I was supposed to take all that on at the same time. Which of course is an illusion of perception. At the same time though, nothing anyone can say or do would convince my younger self otherwise. Now, I suppose I'd tell that younger self to take it easy and that the world is upside down for good reasons: to call upon each self the torch of claiming ownership of their own path. Your writing is a great reminder of this.
Thank you for the mention!