Write then

Nobody wanted this – but you might??

Once upon a time, I was a writer who wrote a lot.

Not a lot a lot. I have never been the type of journalist who can bash out two pieces before lunch, one-handed, on the toilet, possibly drunk. I’ve never really felt comfortable calling myself a ‘journalist’ at all, given that my reflexive response to any editor offering a quick-turnaround commission is “Gah! No! How dare you??” 

But still – I paid the rent, I fed the content monster, I racked up a decent number of bylines. I had ideas and wrote them down in little notebooks. I could write a feature without it stretching out over weeks. I could write a paragraph without needing a little treat afterwards. 

I think it helped that I went freelance during what was, I now realise, a golden age for being silly on the internet. It certainly didn’t feel like a golden age at the time, considering magazines were folding left, right and centre and ever…