I’ve made it to university. This post has taken a while for me to write, mostly because I wanted to make sure I’d survive. Well, just over 2 months later, here I am.

I’m studying History with Creative Writing and often when I tell people this I’m met with raised eyebrows, opened eyes and puzzled mouths. Followed by: “Creative writing? How interesting, what do you want to do, y’know, after your degree?” Which is fair, because I also don’t know yet what I want to do, it’s something I’m working on. But I have ideas.

So, I thought I’d share with you one of my first pieces of creative writing. I wrote this in the first session we had, and it’s a little rough at the moment, but it made my family laugh, so I hope it makes you laugh too. If it does, or there’s something about it you think could help it be better, please, let me me know, write a comment, or send me a message. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Eight letters, four syllables and numerous shortenings. To most, I’m ‘Izzy’ with a ‘y’- Why? Well, I tried out ‘Issie’ but the score is five times less in Scrabble. Temporarily, I’m Isabelle, or Isobel or Izabelle, but that is not my name. My mother named me. There was no-way any child of hers would be cursed with my father’s choice: ‘Tallulah’. A name that, in her mind, evoked a nasally American singer. ‘Aurora’ was her option. A spectacular electrical phenomenon that lights up the night sky with green and red flashes- but my father couldn’t pronounce it. He’d fumble through the second and third syllable, turning the ‘R’s’ into ‘W’s’. So, Isabella it was. Inspiration taken from the great-grandma whom I coincidentally resemble (at least so I’m told) and because, “It is pretty”. With so many names given to just one individual, often I wonder, what name does my cat call me?