Month: August 2017

I started a new job and it was scary

I started a new job recently. It was supposed to be perfect; I had envisaged a radical transformation of my working week in which I leapt bright-eyed and enthusiastic into each day. The new gig eliminated all of the things I had hated about my last job – the slow pace, the rigid hierarchy, the frustrating lack of progression – and I felt primed to allow the waves of relief crash over me as I finally 9-5’ed my way to contentment.


Not so fast, sweetie.

I am afraid to be bad at this

I have been working my way up to this point now for years – quite literally. Two years ago, I purchased a domain name, taught myself to stumble through WordPress, and carefully crafted an ‘About’ page that (I hoped) struck the desired balance between ‘serious writer’ and ‘girl you’d chat shit with over some hard liquor’, whatever that’s supposed to be. I wrote and painstakingly edited my first post. I even created Twitter and Instagram accounts, intended to stand hand-in-hand with my blog. I envisaged some sort of ‘brand’ (I am unashamedly wanky), curated just-so to portray exactly the things I selected and nothing more. And then? Then, dear reader, I erased the lot.