August 29, 2012

that question.

Dinner party. 10am. Random person comes up to you who you kind of recognise but you’re not really sure who it is. But anyway, a part of you knows you’re meant to impress this person. Or at least attempt to. They’re wearing some sort of heavy expensive blazer, so you know – better try and impress. Even if you can’t really stand up that straight.

Them: “So….What do you do?”

Voice inside head: I HATE THIS QUESTION. I DON’T KNOW. I HAVEN’T A CLUE.
Actual me: Um.. a bit of this, a bit of that. 
Voice inside head: I sit in my bedroom day-dreaming of being a writer for a big magazine. Or the editor of my own…I write a stupid blog.
Actual me: Things are good. Job in London doing fun stuff and writing in my spare time.

Them: Raised eyebrow. “Writing eh? How’s that going?”

Voice inside head: I can see you’re smirking at me because I actually just said that “I like writing’. I even cringed as I said it. So yeah, thanks.
Actual me: Yeah, it’s fine. I write for a few publications, enjoying it. Powering through – you know. It’ll happen.

Them: “Are you trying to be like Emma Stone’s character in The Help and think somehow your book will change the world?”

Actual me: Yeah.

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