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I’ll be honest with you. I’m pre-pub stressed. Alisa Kennedy Jones and I jumped on a zoom last night and I said, “I’m apologising in advance for how annoying I’m going to be between now and book launch.” She’s busting a gut to get everything happening at the right time and in the right order and I’m trying really hard to trust in god and tie up my camel. Tying up my camel, I’m good at. Trusting in god, not so much. I was chatting with PG earlier this week who also has a book coming out and he said he hates the pre pub months, which was reassuring to hear, him being so experienced. I want to bury my head and run away and move onto the next and wave a magic wand. Which is funny because I’m going to bet there are writers reading this who’d give their eye teeth to be in my position and can’t see what the fuss is about and why aren’t I just up to my neck in enjoying it? Which is what EC said when I moan-cried to her and of course she’s absolutely right. *continues crying and moaning.
Can’t remember Monday at all. Tuesday I went to Bruton to stay with Margaret who’s helping me with the cottage out in France. Another mountain out of a molehill situation when I needed hand-holding through a momentous IKEA order involving beds and linen and cutlery and lamps. A few micro naps later we went with B to dinner - by coincidence all of us wearing variations on green, white and pinstripes - to celebrate early Margaret’s birthday, and devoured plate after plate of dishes so small and delicious we became hysterical; like the meeting of the green-white-stripes coven intent on losing their s**t over strips of tender venison and beetroot hot with horseradish.
To London on Wednesday, a three hour drive that required coffee, and logistics of packing for a couple of days here before the train to Wales today - I have to hurry this and get up and go. Breakfast meeting with SM yesterday in Coal Drops Yard - my lord that woman’s brain is a wonder, I could swim in it forever. She’s a powerhouse.
Lunch with D & D & their son M just returned from Paris. So lovely, and things delivered from VO. These friendships we build. They are precious.
Went straight off to meet JD for a walk along the river - he’s dog sitting Pickles who could only see joy in her little silken head and know love in her soft, bitey mouth.
Home to my temporary bed in White City where my phone decided to freeze and I had to run across the road to the Apple Store in my pyjamas for a young person to press a few buttons and get it working again. Stress zoom with Alisa. De stress watch of more episodes of Detectorists. Sleep. I had better get my s**t together and get up. It’s Day 1 of Kit de Waal ‘s 6 month writing course and I’m off to Gladstone Library. The joy of sitting in class again. The relief of handing over responsibility. Teach me. I will learn.
Eleanor
By The diary of a literary obsessiveI’ll be honest with you. I’m pre-pub stressed. Alisa Kennedy Jones and I jumped on a zoom last night and I said, “I’m apologising in advance for how annoying I’m going to be between now and book launch.” She’s busting a gut to get everything happening at the right time and in the right order and I’m trying really hard to trust in god and tie up my camel. Tying up my camel, I’m good at. Trusting in god, not so much. I was chatting with PG earlier this week who also has a book coming out and he said he hates the pre pub months, which was reassuring to hear, him being so experienced. I want to bury my head and run away and move onto the next and wave a magic wand. Which is funny because I’m going to bet there are writers reading this who’d give their eye teeth to be in my position and can’t see what the fuss is about and why aren’t I just up to my neck in enjoying it? Which is what EC said when I moan-cried to her and of course she’s absolutely right. *continues crying and moaning.
Can’t remember Monday at all. Tuesday I went to Bruton to stay with Margaret who’s helping me with the cottage out in France. Another mountain out of a molehill situation when I needed hand-holding through a momentous IKEA order involving beds and linen and cutlery and lamps. A few micro naps later we went with B to dinner - by coincidence all of us wearing variations on green, white and pinstripes - to celebrate early Margaret’s birthday, and devoured plate after plate of dishes so small and delicious we became hysterical; like the meeting of the green-white-stripes coven intent on losing their s**t over strips of tender venison and beetroot hot with horseradish.
To London on Wednesday, a three hour drive that required coffee, and logistics of packing for a couple of days here before the train to Wales today - I have to hurry this and get up and go. Breakfast meeting with SM yesterday in Coal Drops Yard - my lord that woman’s brain is a wonder, I could swim in it forever. She’s a powerhouse.
Lunch with D & D & their son M just returned from Paris. So lovely, and things delivered from VO. These friendships we build. They are precious.
Went straight off to meet JD for a walk along the river - he’s dog sitting Pickles who could only see joy in her little silken head and know love in her soft, bitey mouth.
Home to my temporary bed in White City where my phone decided to freeze and I had to run across the road to the Apple Store in my pyjamas for a young person to press a few buttons and get it working again. Stress zoom with Alisa. De stress watch of more episodes of Detectorists. Sleep. I had better get my s**t together and get up. It’s Day 1 of Kit de Waal ‘s 6 month writing course and I’m off to Gladstone Library. The joy of sitting in class again. The relief of handing over responsibility. Teach me. I will learn.
Eleanor