More silence. I am becoming my own PhD subject. Privacy, unfortunately, is multi-faceted. On the one hand, a fascinating subject, but on the other, also a rather uncomfortable mindset. It is like a form of writing anorexia (and I know how loaded that term is); there is more pleasure in the discipline I take from choosing not to write. Perhaps it is the vulnerability or fear of betrayal. Perhaps it is the protection, away from the uncomfortable places that writing invariably reaches. I continue to believe I am doing the right thing in keeping emotional charges locked up.

But this is just it. How many tabloid stories continue to roll out at the expense of private lives? What they uncover tends to be mischief and skullduggery,  just about enough to justify the intrusion in the majority of eyes. I don’t want my private life uncovering. I read a fascinating piece earlier about editorial decisions, which suggests that all good intentions do yield to become the paving stones towards hell.

Interesting, I suppose, as I recently became a temporary editor at everywoman in London. It arrived thanks to a certain amount of misfortune and an unusally pragmatic application. After several weeks of solid work, the company now entrusts me with writing and editing scripts for an awards ceremony. I am worth something professionally for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. I have an idea to stay affiliated with the company, and any involvement that is born from adversity and which prospers through entrepreneurial means surely fits in perfectly with the company’s ethos. It’s about time for some happier coincidences.

It was supposed to end today. Owing to positive feedback, and some delays to the project, I have a 10 day extension. Still, all so soon. Were this a full-time opportunity, I would not hesitate to forget the PhD. At 26, you want more for yourself than fighting for every penny, all the while learning that you are fit for little better than an apprentice out of the other side of your prized qualification.

Now juggling full-time work with private tuition and the preparation, evening editing work for everywoman, weekend work with Matt, and training next week, alongside the pitch for indefinite leave to remain, I have bitten off more than I can chew. Writing in days, and writing off days. It’s a more fulfilling time, and yet a more climacteric one. What do you do if you find pieces that you have been looking for and happiness is still elusive? Hence, I am inwardly thrilled at the echo of 2004, and the forethought that not all good things die.



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