The secret life of a writer (on a very bad day)
I sit down with a large mug of coffee and say to myself. Right, let’s do this.
Let today’s words be cool, sweet, and profound, all at once. Let it read like it didn’t take any effort at all.
Today, I will achieve my goals. But first, as I sip coffee, let’s check out the BBC website. The day begins after coffee, right?
I glance at the news about the war in Ukraine, times 20. I click on a few that seem worth reading. The rest I avoid on purpose.
How lucky am I to be living in the “free world” and to be able to give birth in this country.
I say giving birth — because that’s when I have been at my most vulnerable state physically.
My heart feels crushed. Those images from the maternity ward bombing.
Those images live inside my brain now. They appear in my sleep.
This War feels closer to me than any other recent humanitarian crisis.
I have 20 tabs open at once, as usual. I hate unread emails or phone calls going unanswered. But this I can tolerate.
Some of the tabs are half-read articles and others are half-written Word docs. And of course, there are a few social media feeds.
