Happy half-birthday to Drafting. Thanks for coming to celebrate with me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading and engaging with my writing. Instead of an Offcuts today, I thought it would be nice to take a look back instead. I’ve cherrypicked 5 newsletters that have really stuck with me. It’s a mix of those that I enjoyed writing these the most or prompted the best conversations. My ears are also very open to feedback on what topics or things from me that you like reading the most. Here’s to the next six months!
Granny's front room
What’s this? A new post? Exactly a week after the first? My, my I have exceeded expectations. If you’ve read the about page for Drafting or received my very first email last week (linked here if you missed it), then it will come as no surprise that what I’m sharing with you today was first drafted a while ago. There are lots of drafts, some nearly-there…
I'm loving angels instead
“Do you remember your Robbie Williams phase?” My housemate shouts up the stairs at me. As if I would ever forget. I think of it fondly. In our last flat, I went through a period of listening to the same 4 songs on repeat every time I got in the shower, a personal greatest hits playlist. It was stunning.
We tell ourselves stories in order to live
To BeReal or not to BeReal, that is the question. It might have won Apple’s ‘App of the Year’ for 2022, but will BeReal even still exist by the end of 2023? If you’re unfamiliar, BeReal is a French photo-sharing app. You get a notification once a day to “be real” and take a photo of what you’re doing, while your front camera also takes a photo of you an…
A wondrous world beyond the window
The storm that came to visit South London yesterday peaked just as I’d curled up on my bed to finish reading my book. I could not have timed it better if I’d written the scene as a piece of fiction myself. I love a good thunderstorm. It’s the visceral display of anger that I revel in. Thunder bellowing, rain pummelling. A guttural release of Mother Eart…
On the strangeness of grief
About six weeks ago I entered Farrah Storr’s writing competition. I was up against some incredible talent and this time, it wasn’t meant to be. But I’m oh so proud of myself for giving it the very best shot I could. For trying and for actually putting my work out there. To let my writing be received, to be read, to be judged. It was daunting. And scary. And of cour…