Carmel Harrington: How becoming a mother inspired me to chase my dreams
Carmel Harrington: I found my entertainment snug under a heavy blanket, engrossed in books borrowed from our local library. From the wonders of Tolkien’s Middle-earth to Atwood’s Handmaids, I was all in. Photograph Moya Nolan
I cannot recall a time when books were not integral to my life.
From curling up on my mother’s lap as she read stories to me and my siblings, to my first day at school, where this reluctant student was charmed into returning every day by a teacher who introduced her to the magic of Roald Dahl.
This was my first lesson that books hold power.
Growing up in Ireland during the 1980s was entirely different from what my children experience today.
There were no mobile phones, just one television with two channels, and we kids were the remote control!
I found my entertainment snug under a heavy blanket, engrossed in books borrowed from our local library. From the wonders of Tolkien’s Middle-earth to Atwood’s Handmaids, I was all in.
I’m not sure when I first dreamed of becoming a writer, but I remember retelling stories and altering unsatisfactory endings for my teddy bears.
As a teenager, I spun tales for my dapple grey pony, Mr. Bojangles, during our daily treks.
Fast forward to Careers Day at my alma mater, Loreto Wexford, when all students were encouraged to share their aspirations.
My heart raced at publicly revealing my hidden dream of becoming an author.
When it was my turn to speak, I lost my nerve and echoed what an earlier student had shared: that I wanted to be an air hostess.
I couldn’t envision a future in which I might write a story that could resonate with an unknown reader, the way my favourite authors did for me.
My first job was with Aer Lingus. I travelled the world with them for a decade, immersing myself in vibrant cultures.
Each new horizon taught me something about myself, and those lessons are now woven throughout my books.
I eventually moved on from Aer Lingus and began working for an American multinational.
By this time, I had accumulated boxes of journals filled with short stories and early chapters of unfinished novels, all tucked away under my bed and never shared with anyone.
My body shook with sobs as I realised a lifelong ambition. I wanted to share this feeling with my parents.
With trembling hands, I drove home to Wexford and presented mum and dad with my completed manuscript, bound together in a folder.
An avid reader, my mother took the manuscript and vanished for hours, only to emerge from her bedroom after finishing that rather clumsy yet heartfelt first draft.
We watched her, waiting for her verdict. As dad said, ‘Your mother is a class of a book expert. If she likes it, you’re onto something. If she doesn’t…’
He allowed that damning sentence to hang. Thank the stars, she loved it!
Despite this parental stamp of approval, I still wasn’t ready to get out of my own way.
I placed that manuscript beneath my bed to collect dust. But despite my lack of faith, my hidden ambition began to reveal itself.
I felt an urge to write daily and started sharing snippets of my stories with close family and friends.
On my first date with my husband, I confided in him that I wished to be a novelist — the only time I had ever disclosed this to someone I scarcely knew.
Roger not only listened attentively but also became my greatest supporter.
However, my arch nemesis, self-doubt, persisted in finding excuses for not pursuing my dreams despite the encouragement from loved ones.
Until I became a mother. I had believed for a long time that I might never experience motherhood. That’s a tale for another time, but trust me when I say that when Amelia arrived, I had never felt joy quite like it.
Both Roger and I were utterly captivated by her. We referred to it as ‘Amelia TV’, as we spent hours admiring her.
On one such occasion, when I tiptoed into her nursery to watch her sleep, I pondered what dreams she might have one day.
I promised her that I would do everything possible to help make them come true. Then, a thought halted me in my tracks.
How could I teach Amelia to pursue her dreams when I felt like a fraud, afraid to take a risk that someone might be interested in my writing?
At that moment, I realised I needed to lead by example.
And that’s where the fun began.
I handed in my notice and became a full-time mother by day and an aspiring author by night.
However, as with all good stories, there was another plot twist when I discovered that baby number two was on the way.
I found myself juggling spoon-feeds and ABCs with two little ones under two, as I valiantly chased my dreams.
Every night, when the house was quiet, I wrote. I compiled lists of agents and publishers, pitched, and queried, hoping with each attempt that this might be the one to change my life.
It was exhausting, but whenever I felt my resolve waver, I looked at Amelia and remembered the silent vow I’d made to her.
I had no choice but to continue searching for that one yes. And finally, it came in 2013, when I signed my first two-book deal.
Since then, every day has been a school day, with lessons learned with each new book. But I hold tight to my truth. I am an author. And I am where I am meant to be.
- The Stolen Child by Carmel Harrington is published in Trade Paperback by Headline
