Margarita is a passionate storyteller and experienced journalist who has written for The Sunday Times, National Geographic and The Times. She has a BSc Hons in Psychology. She loves exploring new places, yoga and teaching children and adults’ creative writing. Margarita is an emotive, descriptive writer with a genuine love of words and meeting new people, and she would love to help create a literary legacy for you.
As a Story Terrace writer, Margarita interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better: you can read an autobiographical story of her own below. Get in touch today to work with her!
When at the tender age of seventeen I found myself faced with a lifetime of tinnitus, a ringing background soundtrack to my life that accompanied my every waking moment, I turned to my two lifetime loves; writing and yoga.
The diagnosis was grim (no cure) and the doctor that dealt the news was unsympathetic and unflinching as he delivered the final blow (permanent). It has been my greatest teacher, forcing me to live in the moment, to take nothing, even the sweet sound of silence, for granted. I may not have heard quiet for nearly eighteen years now but I have, through yoga and daily writing, found strength, grace and a resilience I never thought possible.
Yoga, writing, shouting from the rooftops, dancing in the dark, whatever your self-prescribed medicine, I believe all have the power to heal on a cellular level. Yoga is so much more than just stretching bendy bodies while chanting out Om through your belly button. It gently but powerfully kneads your insides, wringing out the woes of yesterday and trauma from within your limbs like squeezing water from a wet towel. Writing too has been my crutch, my confidante and my ally. It can, if you let it, be transformational.
Combined, they are my saving grace. Even now, whether it is 2pm or 2am I hit my mat and gravitate toward my notebook, and I emerge stronger from the inside out. I walk a little taller, write a little longer.
I heard a quote once that I write on every fresh brand new notebook: ‘When you cannot think; write. When you cannot speak; write. When you cannot sleep; write. And when you cannot write? Read.’
Usually, at the back of said notebook I write a beautiful line from Stephen King; ‘A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to become a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.’ And I do remember. But the scars no longer hold the power. I do.