16th April
The Obsessive Diary
I dreamt last night that I told my agent about the book I’m writing and the device that lies at the heart of its structure and she was like, no, no, no. That is a no-no and she laughed in a way that shot humiliation right through my veins and I had to pretend that I didn’t mean it and go rushing back and change it. I know other people’s dreams are boring as fuck but it only came back to me as I was in the last ten minutes of this morning’s work. Fuck. Prophecy or paranoia? I guess we’ll find out.
I spent a great deal of yesterday designing a workshop I’m guest presenting for Retreat West as part of Amanda Saint’s memoir course. When I say designing what I mean is pacing about in a fury and panic of out-of-my-depthness as my body persisted in presenting an idea and my mind persisted in saying I couldn’t do it. That I was unqualified and irresponsible. Which is ironic as the idea for the workshop is Memoir and The Body.
Here’s the thing.
