How I Changed My Writing Style

“Perhaps every story we write is, in some way, a mirror reflecting who we truly are.”

I’m fully aware that I’ve disrupted the sacred rules of literature. Changing one’s writing style as an author is akin to switching career paths for a mainstream worker—a risky move that often raises eyebrows.

Before starting Mythomania, I had written two personal development books under a pen name, closely tied to my coaching activity. My clients often asked me about my next book, expecting a continuation of the same theme—perhaps a workbook to deepen the method I had shared. But whenever I mentioned I was working on a novel, I’d be met with perplexed looks and comments like, “Why? Coaching suits you so well.”

And that’s exactly the problem.

A Story Born From My Wounds, Breaking Literary Norms...

"Breaking literary norms with a touch of mystery and a whole lot of sass."

Mythomania is more than just a novel. It’s my story, woven from the fabric of my traumas, my childhood wounds, my struggles as a teenager, and my experiences as a woman. Writing it was both cathartic and terrifying. Some of the characters are inspired by real people, but I had to shape their identities, create their images, and uncover the story within the story.

This book allowed me to give voice to the pain I had buried for years. Through fiction, I could explore those dark corners without constraint, crafting a narrative that others might resonate with and draw strength from.

Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone

We live in a paradoxical era where people are encouraged to “be themselves” but are also nudged to stay within their comfort zones. The unknown is daunting.

I don’t deny the joy I found in helping people through coaching. But a year and a half ago, I had an epiphany. Beyond the personal development sessions and energy work with my clients, I felt a growing chasm within me.

That familiar emptiness was a sign I wasn’t fully aligned, even though I had started to feel better. I craved more—a burning desire to express the truths I had buried for too long. Real traumas that couldn’t fit into another non-fiction book. I wanted to tell a story so compelling that readers would see themselves in it, to make them think, “I’m not alone.”

From Reader to Writer...

"Hiding my fears, revealing my stories one chapter at a time."

I had always been an avid reader, admiring authors who could transport their readers

to another world. Writing non-fiction felt easy, offering a literary freedom distinct from the rigid structure of fiction.

But the creative spark was undeniable. I knew this book would be called Mythomania. In some ways, it already existed; I just had to bring it to life.

The Improvisation of a First Novel

I’m a very instinctive person. While many authors meticulously outline their stories, my preparation consisted of a few notes scribbled in a notebook—main characters and setting, nothing more. Even now, I wonder how those sparse notes turned into a nearly 600-page novel.

The journey wasn’t smooth. I wrote the introduction on my phone, only for my computer to break down shortly after. I questioned whether this was a sign that the book wasn’t meant to be. Yet, the ideas kept flowing, so I persisted. For three weeks, I wrote on my phone before investing in a new computer. By then, Mythomania already had five chapters.

Following Instinct Over Rules

I’ve never been a fan of strict “How To” guides. For me, a book isn’t just a series of words or a perfectly structured product. It’s a parallel dimension, an unfolding universe to observe and transcribe.

In theory, I created Mythomania. In practice, the novel guided me. I thought I was shaping its story, but my characters were the ones revealing their truths. Every word felt inevitable. Even when I faced writer’s block, I would jump to another chapter, following the ideas that burned brightest in the moment. Why force a stalled chapter when inspiration strikes elsewhere?

This seemingly chaotic process kept me moving forward without losing motivation.

A Personal Transformation

Months passed, and before I knew it, the first draft was complete—raw, imperfect, but finished.

Mythomania isn’t just a novel. It’s a reflection of myself, an exploration of my limits, and a response to a vital need for creation. Changing my writing style transformed a part of me. I’m not the same person I was at the beginning of this journey.

And perhaps that’s the greatest gift a book can offer—not only does it touch readers, but it also profoundly changes its author.