Note · 25 August 2026
Eureka?
“Eureka?”
I’ve always wanted to write this project — I know that much. How I’m going to get there, well, that is a mystery to me as much as it is to you. The Parallel, as many of you are already aware, grew from my very first venture into writing in 2017. Though, they look nothing alike: the characters, the plot, the premise — all changed. So what is the same? Intention, timing, and growth. After spending years in creative burn-out, figuring out the reasons for my hiatus and questioning whether it would ever be possible for me to write again, it was always the one project I couldn’t turn my back on. I still can’t.
The Parallel won’t become a fully-fleshed-out project overnight. What I am trying to prove to myself, and to those around me (who I hope will be able to see it in its full glory one day) is that I can be determined, motivated, and disciplined enough to finish what I started. I know I’ll make a mockery of myself if I don’t. In some ways — metaphorically speaking — I think I’ve been the one pointing the gun at my own head. If I had stuck to it years ago, it would have been completed, but, I don’t think it would have been successful then. I have taken on board a lot of advice from writers around me, spent time figuring out which mediums best suited me, re-read some of my old work, and overall, have attempted to reignite the spark 13-year-old me had. Gosh, I had so much passion that it almost makes me cry to think I wanted to chuck it all away.
I distinctly remember the time that solidified my interest in writing. Flashback to Year 9 — I had this really eccentric (in the best possible way) and enthusiastic English teacher, Mr Laidlaw (I hope you don’t mind me mentioning you), who, during the allocated reading time, always allowed me to write. I think I was particularly persistent about writing. Initially, I had found myself in his class after doing rather badly in the Year 8 end- of-term exam, which had me moved down two sets. At that moment in time — bearing in mind this was at a time where jealousy and rivalry amongst friends and classmates were paramount — I knew I needed to prove myself. Mr Laidlaw tasked us one day to reinvent fairytales, settling on the story of The Three Little Pigs. Of course — combined with the maturity of teenage boys and Donald Trump’s recent presidential inauguration — we decided on rebranding the well-known tale as Donald Trump and the Three Mexicans. It really was a product of its time…
When it was time to share our individual stories with the rest of the class, the others in my group had completely bottled it, but knowing I had something to gain, I decided to give it a go. Nobody was expecting much from the quiet girl until I opened my mouth to let the words flow, and had jaws dropping classroom-wide — Laidlaw included. Safe to say it must have gone well enough, because nobody dared to read their revamped story after me, especially after the teacher said —
“Well, does anyone want to follow that up? I didn’t think so,” or words more or less to that effect.
This situation happened another three times throughout my time at secondary school. I won’t bore you with my entire life story today, so perhaps another time?
Anyway, back to The Parallel. I have genuinely lost my train of thought, so bear with me for a moment. Okay, so I suppose I want to recreate the magic of my words all that time ago. If I could do it then, surely I could recreate that sensation now? I thought I could too, until writer’s block hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s been a rather underwhelming journey — no major breakthroughs — just chasing a childhood dream before I lose sight of it entirely.
I don’t know precisely why now feels like the right time. I haven’t really changed (apart from the name). Perhaps I just feel more like myself again. A lot of people tried to strip me of an authentic personality and importantly, voice, though they have never fully succeeded. Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be willing to give this up until The Parallel is shown to millions worldwide, and I get to have the recognition I deserve. Maybe these delusions of grandeur will begin to materialise.
With love,
AVÉLINE FONTAINE.