Through my blogging and my daring interpretive dance set, I’ve reached a certain level of notoriety recently.
The public have begun asking questions, most commonly, “Who the fuck are you?”
I take this as an invitation to share my life story, such as it is, with the people. I’ve entered into talks with a leading publishing house (for legal reasons, I can’t reveal which – but if I drop the hint that it was founded by a prominent quantity surveyor, I think you’ll probably guess) and I’m hopeful we’ll have ironed out a book deal by the new year.
Whilst I’m waiting for the go-ahead to actually start writing my memoirs, I’ve been weighing up a few prospective titles. Here’s a sample.
- Writing self-deprecating notes to yourself doesn’t make you modest & other closetothebone home truths.
- Having never had a boyfriend AND having cold sores is really just adding insult to injury & other tales from my adolescence.
- Maybe you should try NOT thinking that way & other pieces of useless mental health advice I’ve received.
- Esoteric & other $5 words I pretend to know.
- Camus? I love him. He’s so esoteric. & other lies I’ve told to sound smart.
- Bedheads and Hockeysticks: PE at 8am – a Survivor’s Story
- Oh wow it turns out getting a tattoo actually hurts quite a lot & other things I’ve said after making a snap decision.