Guest Post by author Olivia Swindler
I have always been a storyteller. From the moment I learned that I could keep my sister's attention if I had a good enough story, I knew this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
When I started writing, it took me years to find my voice. No matter what the plot was, for some reason, the story kept falling flat. The words that I was writing didn't feel like me because they weren't me. The stories I was trying to tell were not mine to carry. I knew it. Those who read my words knew it. It was not authentic.
In my mid-twenties, I had an "oh-my-gosh-the-world-is-ending-and-I-will-never-find-love-again" breakup. (Older and wiser now, I wish I was dramatic when I typed those words, but I know that you can find that phrasing verbatim somewhere in a text to my sister). I really thought that my life was over.
I started to tell a few of my friends about my recently ended relationship. After describing something my ex had said to me while we were dating, one of my dearest friends said the words I had been dreading and denying—that he had been emotionally abusive and manipulative.
With the pieces of my broken heart, I refused to believe her. He HAD loved me. I loved him.
A few months went by, and I did my best to forget her words. I moved on with my life. I figured out who I was again. I felt like myself. And then, one morning, I got on Twitter. The #metoo movement had begun, and I found myself absentmindedly scrolling through the tweets. I could relate to almost every tweet. The things these women were calling abuse were things that I had experienced in this relationship.
I fell to the floor and cried.
From my spot on the floor, I wrote what would become the last song in Cynthia Starts a Band, Wasn't Love. I had spent the better half of a year justifying this bad behavior because I thought that the way I was being treated was the way love was supposed to look like. For years, I held onto that song, keeping it as an anthem to myself. It was a reminder of what I had walked through. A testament to my own strength and courage.
And then, after years of writing stories that were not mine to write, the story of Eleanor Quinn, a woman who is escaping an abusive relationship, came to me. The words ultimately wrote themselves.
- I wrote Cynthia Starts a Band as a beacon of hope for anyone trying to find their agency again.
- I wrote Cynthia Starts a Band as a love letter to anyone who has felt alone in their pain.
- I wrote Cynthia Starts a Band to remind myself of the courage it takes to start over.
I hope that through stories like Cynthia Starts a Band, readers feel empowered and remember that they can do hard things. I hope you feel seen. I hope you feel loved.
Learn more:
https://www.oliviaswindler.
FB: @olivia.swindler
IG: @oliviaswindler
Twitter: @oliviaswindler
Buy the book - Amazon or Barnes & Noble
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