EVERYTHING IS EITHER A GOOD TIME OR A GOOD STORY

For a long time, I tried very hard to be a serious writer. Some idiots even gave me an award for my serious writing, which fooled me into taking myself even more seriously. Big mistake.

Then one afternoon, halfway through a writing retreat where I was supposed to be writing a very serious novel, I found myself drunk in a stone circle, with a Tibetan singing bowl on my head, which someone was hitting with a mallet.

As the vibrations reverberated through my brain, I realised a fundamental truth: that only a terrible person would be fucking around with singing bowls when they had finally been given the time and space to write the Greatest Novel of the Century (working title).

And that was me. The worst person in the world. Drunk in a field with a gong on my head.

But rather than let this moment of revelation inspire me to really knuckle down and give that novel a good crack, I decided it would be a lot more fun to write about all the dumbass things I was doing to avoid it.

And it turns out, I was right.

The irony is that I’m now committed to writing more than ever. Every week, sometimes twice a week, I send out a post about failure, shame, guilt, debt, broken promises, terrible dates, disastrous haircuts, break ups, petty crimes, and all my deepest humiliations. Because apparently that’s funny to you people.

If you, like me, are the kind of awful person who enjoys tittering at another’s misfortunes, you’re in the right place. Most of my posts are free and just drop into your inbox. Or you can read them on the app, if you don’t like emails. Plus you’re invited to comment and join in the chat. I respond to every message.

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