I had such grand plans to start January strong – to write, yoga, avoid cheese at all costs and run absolutely everywhere, but then I got a cold and all of those resolutions went out of the window on Day Two. The phlegm may very well be subsiding, but the motivation still hasn’t shown up in the way I hoped it would.
A large part of this last week has been spent staring at blank word documents wondering what on earth I should blog about. I’m sure you’ve noticed me shouting about the fact I have a book coming out on March 9th. (Please buy it!) This means I have seven whole weeks – 56 earth days – to try and improve my social media presence and persuade some people I haven’t once shared beers with to buy my book.
I’m not really one for social media. I appreciate its merits. I love pictures of baby animals, sarcastic cartoons, motivational quotes and pictures of delicious food – I’m not a barbarian, however, my brain isn’t programmed to share things. That’s probably why it took me close to three years to write a book about myself that’s totally honest and completely and utterly embarrassing. It’s hard to type, and even to think, when you’re cringing that hard. However, my social media attack has to happen. I must try. I have a lovingly prepared colour-coded spreadsheet at the ready, which we all know is the first step to world domination. Even those with the weakest willpower can do anything for seven weeks surely? It’s only a couple of weeks shorter than the Great British Bake Off – and look what they achieve in that time. Showstoppers! I have a lot of work to do but my words appear to be in hibernation, snuggled up in a faraway cave somewhere covered in leaves, knackered to shit from being worked so hard at the end of 2016.
Then yesterday, a magical thing happened – my book proof arrived! I’ve been thundering down the stairs each day (totally counts towards my running quota) whenever I hear the postman, as I knew a copy was en route. Every day I’d peer down the final flight of stairs, see a couple of those flimsy white envelopes that only ever contain information like the new bin schedule or an offer to sell the house you don’t even own, my shoulders would slump and I’d glumly climb back up the stairs to be taunted by Microsoft Word some more. Yesterday though – there it was. Winking at me. I tore open that tiny brown package and took in the beauty of the book I’ve worked like a maniac on. I laughed for a good five minutes in my freezing cold hallway like a jubilant criminal who’s just seized the booty he started his whole sleazy career for, and then held it aloft in triumph. I turned it around and round in my hands – delighting at the spine, the cover, the colours. And then I took it upstairs sat on my bed, and I cried my fucking heart out.
So this is what it’s like to produce something that you love?
This is what it feels like to care about something so much it makes you feel sick.
This is what it must feel like to finally own a kitten.
Turns out I do have some words left. I might be a little creaky whilst getting back in the swing of things, but if the results make me fist pump the air 30 times in a row, it’s probably best I at least give it a bash. Please bear with me.
If you’re one of the wonderful people who has already pre-ordered, ‘Miss-Adventures: A Tale of Ignoring Life Advice While Backpacking South America’ – THANK YOU. I am eternally grateful and you are my hero. Pre-order make such a huge difference to the success of the book so this is such a help.
If you haven’t – please do! Like I said there’s a lot of meaty embarrassment in there that’s well worth a tenner.
Can’t wait to hear what you all think. xx