swirting, myfeinn, wiprack, krartorian, sapien, glorgumant, gruckeskt are all words that are not words to describe this revolting feeling. Futureschmertzen? It's no good. Definitely used to be able to write about it but I'm so grindled tonight. Feels like nothing would ever be enough to fill the great big black hole of needinesss that is me. Pushing away friends so they don't reject me first. Like I'm made of jelly. Like I'm back in school and not quite cool or interesting enough. Looking over my friends' shoulders at school - clearly they're not cool enough if they're talking to me. Stupid, pretentious, not-quite-as-clever-as-she-seems-at-first basically unoriginal and, when one comes down to it, a bit shallow. Not capable of building a real relationship, at best sort of a worshipping audience of someone who eventually wanted more than admiration. Unable to write this without feeling embarrassed by it. Editing it (I mean, grindled? That's stupid. Why not just use a real word?). Spending my life in stories instead of actually working anything out in the real world. Now completely lost. Too many qualifiers. Definitely borderline alcoholic (or just Londoner). How about this for a Soulmates profile? Also, I like yoga. #everything. Going to Byron Burger (which I don't like, it's silly and the burgers are rubbish and everyone's loud in Farringdon) because I don't want to be alone. Missing my friends although they are here. Endlessly comparing my life to books. Not sure how to cope with the next few months because he has someone new and I don't. Totally over it though. Totally fine. Fucking fucking arse.

Oh dear. I don't know what to do. I don't think I don't know if I can cope with seeing him with beautiful dark-haired girl and happy. Not on holidays, not being on emails he sends about gigs. I feel so stupid for not being more over this. It's been almost TWO YEARS. TWO YEARS. And I've been trying to do so many things. But essentially, it comes down to the fact that it's clearly easier for him to find someone. I'm exhausted. Everything is hard. Work, family, friends, him. Even home. Rented home with one housemate who appears to no longer want to talk to me (not that I'm exactly a nice easy barrel of laughs at present. Actually a barrel of laughs sounds scary). I feel like getting older means increasing distance from everyone and everything and the more I try to grab at things, the further away they are.

Breaking Bad, sexy books, The Lemon Grove, wizened

I read a very sexy book yesterday: The Lemon Grove. I read so many sexy books for work that it's quite odd to find one that really gets to me, but this was shockingly hot and a little bit wrong. Amazing combo of beautiful, evocative and literary writing with sexual excess and loss of control - just gorgeous and rather a shame they've packaged it so innocently! I do hope I find someone to have amazing sex with before I grow wizened, it would be a shame not to take advantage. Just got back from a holiday in Turkey, which was difficult, but very nice in places. I hate that my dad's ill. I hate Parkinsons. I know I should be mature and supportive and good but I don't feel like that. I feel like an angry child. In other news, Mum went on her skydive on Sunday. I missed the actual jump thanks to poor planning, a terrible hangover and the apparent two and a half hour lunch break that train drivers in Peterborough like to take. Still, seeing her afterwards was nice - she was glowing and seemed way more relaxed, which was wonderful. Currently watching Breaking Bad. It depresses me as a show, but think I just need to power through to the end, it's the only way to get through of poor Jessie (*sigh) and his doomed faith in Malcolm in the Middle's dad. Here goes again, episode six of the final season - Walter is no doubt about to be a douche.

publishing woes, lack of sleep

Failing rather seriously to sleep tonight. I think I'm tired, but just can't seem to switch my brain off. It scares me  very much how much of my time and energy is spent on work or worrying about the future. I'm sure the world used to have more richness to it. I definitely used to think more about things outside of myself. Maybe work does count on that front, but somehow, lying here and worrying whether the Samantha Young is going to sell the required 9,600 ebooks in order too break even (because no matter what sales said at the time I DEFINITELY overpaid - 22000 pounds was insane for that book) doesn't have quite the gravitas of attempting to understand Kant's Ethics (though to be fair, I never did manage that). The most depressing thing about it (work, I mean) is that I feel so helpless. Lacking marketing, publicity or significant sales support (ie, Budget - an elusive, mythical creature who I've heard rumours occasionally blesses JK Rowling and the literary division with its presence), I'm basically just putting books up on Amazon and surfing off the author's pre-existing popularity. It's not good enough, and it's certainly not good enough to justify taking 75% of ebook royalties. It's also horrible, and immensely frustrating, to watch a book you actually care about and think is good (admittedly,  they are in the minority of what I publish, but they do exist) and know that in spite of all your hopes and promises to the contrary, you have almost no power to help it reach new readers. Again, it's not right and it's not sustainable. And I'm so incredibly sick of it, I have to either leave or figure out a way that we can add more than we currently do.

Sam's book is here at present:

• Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #245 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
• #3 in Kindle Store > Books > Literature & Fiction > Erotica > Romantic Erotica
• #6 in Kindle Store > Books > Literature & Fiction > Women's Fiction > Sagas
• #6 in Books > Fiction > Erotica
• 
  
• Not bad. Not great, but not bad. 

Maybe freelance editing is the only way to go? But the thing is, I do feel like there are publishing jobs out there where you get to make a difference, where you actually put a campaign together that people have time to focus on and that they are excited about. Where we aren't publishing ridiculous numbers of books at once and competing, or having to operate within guidelines that are set up millions of miles away. Maybe even somewhere where I get to work with the authors again. It's just that trying to get those jobs feels impossible - most of the independents are literary, whereas I like commercial books. I do feel that after this job, managing fewer than 12-20 books a month will just feel AMAZING. Anything where I have time to be creative would feel amazing. Equally, somewhere where I care about the books would be pretty special as well. 

Ok. I shall send my cv to independent publishers. There are still some around, after all, and working outside of London wouldn't be the end of the world. I do think that maybe I'm coming back to life a little. 

• 
  
•  

some sadness and some happy things

So, on  Wednesday night I got horribly, horribly drunk, ended up in a pub with Fish, blurted out that I missed him and said maybe we could... Luckily, I suddenly realised that I didn't really have an ending to that suggestion. He might miss me, and I him, but we've still sorted nothing - what would we do, start dating again? As I foundered, so did he. A week ago, apparently, he would have leapt at the chance (!) but now, over the past week he's started seeing someone else. It's 'complicated' but he still loves me. However, it was a horrible, painful relief and I feel like a bit of an idiot, but at least it's over now. Even more than that, I think I blurted it out because I could tell something was different. Think there's a reason I haven't said anything over the past few months when I could tell he was feeling the same - I knew it wasn't the right thing, so I waited until it was safe, if humiliating. Also, he's getting help and getting himself sorted, which is wonderful, no matter what else. Anyway. Enough is enough is enough of this. This is the last post containing his name for the next six months. I'm not going to see him, and I'm going to do my best not to think of him. I'd better buy a new laptop, get my desk back and stop wearing the clothes he bought me - going to try and build a life without him. But, just for the record, men suck.

Good things this bank holiday:
 - Laughing with Allie on the South Bank and eating at a lovely restaurant
 - Watching Breaking Bad in bed for lots of today
 - Talking to Maisie on Skype
 - Seeing Lucy's new flat and drinking strawberry vodka
 - Holding another Game of Thrones evening (Daenerys-themed - lamb with Ras el hanout spices on skewers - it was delicious)
 - Not going to Cambridge
 - The sun
 - Talking to Mum on Thursday
 - Hopefully not dying alone, even though I'm two months away from 30 and very scared indeed
 - Seeing Hannah's baby (though, unfortunately, it does look a little like a troll)
 - Writing this list
 - Rereading one of my travelling diaries

Tomorrow I'm volunteering for the second time with a school in West Norwood. We have about four children to look after each, and tomorrow they're going to be interviewing us to learn some presentation and communication skills. My lot (Charlene, Michelle, Amchaya (or something like that) and Tyrone) seem like a nice bunch. I was terrified, but they are nowhere near as frightening as the Camp America girls. I don't think any children anywhere will ever be as frightening as the Camp America ones, which I suppose is good practice.

Just joining Guardian Soulmates officially. Dating, here I come.  

missing and separation

It's Sunday night and I'm a bit drunk and also maudlin. Lovely lunch/dinner thing at Adam's but god I miss Fish. So badly that it's ridiculous at the moment. I know we sorted nothing and that nothing would be different if we got together but all the same I ache for him. It literally hurts my stomach, missing him.  Adam met a girl on Tinder to will try doing the same. For a boy, obviously. Unless she's a really pretty girl. Me? Desperate? No, not at all.

Ramble and news and Reaper

Rather depressing outburst on Friday - I'd apologise but luckily no one I know reads this! Apologies instead to my future self. Barring the world self-destructing I will probably read this back and be a bit ashamed. Just got back from my Dad's 71st birthday, which was actually really nice. Adam and I had taken a night each as Mum was on holiday, so we had a very relaxed weekend until my mum came back, at which point suddenly everything became extremely stressful. I can't decide whether she was always just difficult, or whether she's become more miserable and so harder to be around. She currently has a constant air of need and passive aggressive anger at the situation she's in. It must be unimaginably horrible to have to shift in your marriage from partner to carer, so I do understand the rage, but I don't know how to help other than being there a lot. She's doing incredibly well, actually, and after a few hours she calms down, however from the moment of her entrance everybody tensed up, including Dad. Within a few moments she'd mentioned that perhaps I could stay in Chorleywood till Tuesday, told Adam off for not buying a paper, passively-aggressively suggested he mow the lawn ('I was hoping Adam would do it...'), unloaded the dishwasher, asked me lots about Fish and started questioning why Adam and I felt it necessary to be 'pissed out of our minds' before we could enjoy ourselves on nights out (fair point for most of England but not ideal fodder for 11am on a sunny Sunday morning straight after 'hello and how was the holiday'). It's exhausting, and felt much clearer than usual after such a relaxing couple of days. Adam's going to suggest she find some support groups, with the hope that now we've both suggested it (and I've sent links) she might try doing it.

In other news, I've just finished The Saga of the Exiles again, which wasn't quite as good as I remembered - actually think Fish might be right in saying they are slightly less strong than the Mileu trilogy. It just drags a little bit and things work out a little too easily at the end. I also went to see Under The Skin, a terrifying, weird, slow and exhausting film that I think I really, really like. However, it's taken me a few days to come to that conclusion. It was a little like 2001, though with sex; a similarly eerie, fantastic portrayal of alien consciousness. Unlike the film of Enders Game, which is a pile of total crap. Can't work out if the book is worse than I remember, or if it just doesn't lend itself to film. Harrison Ford was the only good thing in it - the poor grumpy man pulled his scenes off beautifully and seemed to do his utmost to distance himself from the rest of the car crash. I'm still worryingly obsessed with  Reaper, a phone game that continues to be cute, addictive and which I'm annoyingly bad at. Also, in the story version they killed everyone that poor Reaper loved and left him wandering alone in the darkness (and that was the reward for winning :( ).

I have a potential Tinder date on Wednesday, so we'll see. I'm aware I'm still basically in love with Fish (like Voldemort, it's important to say his name often to banish the demons), but since there doesn't appear to be a solution to this (he keeps saying how much he misses me but is not exactly throwing himself in front of me and asking what he can do to make us work, and even if he did I don't know what I'd say, or how I could be reassured enough that he wouldn't just vanish again), I am desperately hunting for distraction. Sadly, desperation in any form isn't that attractive, so slightly worried I'm coming across as quite odd, rather than cool, mysterious and flirty. Ah well.

Ooh, just found a new sword on Reaper - how exciting!

Ahem.

Right, this has been a rather boring post, I suspect, but trying my best to keep writing as much as I can (which apparently isn't much, because I suffer from extreme laziness).

Hi Fish

I’m missing you rather horribly at the moment and it’s messing me up. I want to talk to you about things I’m worried about – without you I just keep going over them in my head. The silly thing is, I know that if we were still together, the way we were by the end, you wouldn’t be interested in hearing what I was thinking about. So it’s even more annoying that I know you might be more interested now and that I miss your advice and voice in my head so much.

I feel as though everything around me is changing and I’m just stuck. I know there are lots of things I should be able to do to kick me out of this, but I can’t seem to make myself do them. I should join a squash club. I should try and audition in a choir. I should spend some time writing. I should try dating with more commitment. Instead I’m very afraid that I’m just waiting for us to start again.

Meanwhile, as a 29yr old woman, I know that my chances to have a family are shrinking. That people look down on me for not having a partner. That I want children and to be needed and to have a rich, full life full of people I love but instead feel like my deep need for those things is instead going to drive everyone away. I’m basically a mess. I also feel like London is quite unfair in that you will get more desirable as all those 24yr old concubine types realise how awesome and rich you are, while I’ll get more and more desperate and end up in a corner somewhere buried under a pile of books. It makes me feel like I need to do something straight away if we are to get back together, before you realise this inequality. However, I’m also aware that this is quite mad, and that to get back with someone ‘before they realise they can do better’ probably isn’t the way to lasting bliss, especially since I know from bitter experience that you are not somebody who is good at reassuring me or building up my self-esteem when it feels wobbly. With you, I need to be in the position of strength – you only ever seem to really want me when you feel like you can’t have me.

Currently, I appear to be fighting tears at my desk, which isn’t ideal, tbh. Particularly since I’m meant to be writing cover copy about a paranormal historical romance set in Victorian London.