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November News

November News

I should probably stop calling myself a blogger, shouldn’t I? Maybe I should opt for a more truthful title: “bookworm and writer who occasionally posts updates on their blog, roughly once a month”. It’s like… once it’s been a couple of weeks, it’s hard to know what’s worth breaking your silence for, and so it just stretches on and on. Also, it’s been busy! I’ve got a bunch of news to share with you, which I’ll do in roughly chronological…

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Pain, Pitch Wars, and the Unemployment Void

Pain, Pitch Wars, and the Unemployment Void

Yikes. I’d just got back on the blogging wagon, and then I fell off it again. I’m sorry for my extended silence. I haven’t been doing brilliantly the last few weeks — I’ve had some bad pain flare-ups, along with the migraines I’ve been suffering for the last couple of months, and am barely finding time to do anything. Where I do have any time, I’m tending to use it to work on Bard, which means I’ve been reading very…

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The Anticipation of Adulthood

The Anticipation of Adulthood

It’s a cliche to say it, but being a new adult is hard. For the last eighteen years, my life has been divided up into education and not-education. Everything was always temporary: I was at school, or I was at home, and sooner or later that would reverse and I’d be at home, or I’d be at school. When I was at uni, the year was divided into term time and non-term time, and I knew that wherever I was…

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Part-Time Adulting

Part-Time Adulting

At the start of my final year of university, people often asked me about my plans for life after graduation. At that point, my answer was that I intended to work part-time and live at home, saving money if I could, with a somewhat nebulous idea of what was going to follow after that. My intention to work part time was mostly born of the realisation that my pain and fatigue making working full time difficult if not impossible. During…

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Querying My Future

Querying My Future

Job hunting and querying are extremely alike, I’ve found. Cover letters are basically just queries for yourself; an interview is a full or partial request (depending whether it’s the first interview of several or the only one); and those offers of representation / employment seem hard to come by. Also, I’m rapidly losing my nerve with the whole thing, though unlike querying, this is not because I found a plot point that will alter my entire life and therefore need…

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Dancing One Coffee At A Time

Dancing One Coffee At A Time

I don’t like talking about money, because frankly, it’s awkward. I don’t like trying to monetise my blog, because I feel it gives the wrong impression about why I do this whole social media thing, and it’s not because I think I could make a career from rambling about my gender crises and writing struggles. I’ve already talked about money too much this year what with the whole ‘YouTube de-monetised my account‘ thing, and it feels weird to bring it…

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Much Adulting, Very 22, Wow

Much Adulting, Very 22, Wow

I feel like I write one of these posts every year: looking at my life and panicking that it doesn’t match up to some arbitrary standard of maturity. But ageing is weird, and birthdays are weird, and tomorrow I turn 22. 22 on the 22nd. At least it’s a pleasing number. I sort of designated yesterday my birthday, because I have so much work to do tomorrow and I couldn’t do it yesterday because my parents came to visit me,…

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You’re Still A Writer

You’re Still A Writer

I was thinking about writing recently, as I tend to do, and realising that it tends to be thought of in a very different way to most hobbies and art forms. For writing, the goal always seems like it needs to be publication. If you’re not looking to be published, you’re not a real writer; if you don’t want it to be your job, you’re not serious about it. And I can understand that mindset, because there’s a difference between…

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The Danger Of Writing Too Young

The Danger Of Writing Too Young

When she was younger, my older sister wrote books. When she was about fifteen, she wrote a very very long novel called (I think) The Ninth of Nine. I don’t know how long it was in words, but when it was printed out it filled a lever-arch file. I think it was around 200,000 words, though it might have been 250,000. She wrote most of it on an electric typewriter, not because we didn’t have a computer but because she…

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