I’m having a rough week. Well, actually a rough couple weeks.

‘Rough’ is probably the wrong word to use. I should probably find a better word, a less judgmental term, but rough feels accurate. I’m having one of those weeks when my breathing feels rough, when my language tumbles out roughly and when I feel as if I’m hacking at the air with my speech.

I have no reason why, I’m just stuttering more right now. I am running up against this wall at the start of words and in the middle of words. I am stuttering on the phone, at dinner parties, on bike rides and while I sweat my way around long runs.

I feel a little more tired at the end of the day, a little more fragile. And yet I know what will happen. I know that this particular moment will pass, and that it will come back at some future time. I know that everything is cyclical, that it changes with the seasons.

I can’t say that stuttering up a storm is a breeze, but it has proven a couple things to me:

1. Nobody else seems to care, particularly the people I love.
2. In fact, the people I love seem to be around more, they seem to stand closer to me, they seem to call me up more often.

There are so many myths that we tell ourselves, so much negativity that can be piled on top of our fraught speech. But there is one clear truth – our stutter, our weakness, does not diminish us. Quite the opposite. Vulnerability draws people to us. We are attracted to people who don’t have a façade up, people who are raw and human.

So whatever struggle you are facing it is better to keep moving forward, keep making yourself heard, because hiding from the rest of the world is far worse than the struggle to spit out your words.

Most of us have been there. When I was there, it was obvious that the best course of action was a long nap followed by staring out the window.

Luckily, my other half had more sense than I did. He was the one who boiled the kettle and put pen and paper in my hand.

“Just write everything down. Write down all the impossible things you want to accomplish. Write down all the negative thoughts that are running around your head.”

He asked for 5 minutes of my time, just 5 minutes to sit and write.

And it worked. Because when you write down the negative rubbish that’s holding you back, it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. In fact it all seems fairly manageable.

Now we’ve done it more times than I can count. It has become second nature. Whether we are working on the business, or planning our year ahead, or making a list of everything we want to learn and accomplish, we write it down.

I tend to forget about the lists as soon as I have made them. For me, it is the creation, the brain dump, that sets me free.

The boy is different, he holds on to them. He files them safely away. And I’m so glad he does because these lists of ours, these words scribbled on napkins and grocery lists and sheets of notepads, are part of our history.

They teach us that we will always be striving, that there will always be things to worry about. There will never be some dull, serene moment when we have reached perfection.

And yet they also remind us that we are capable, that we have achieved more than we ever thought we could.

What would you put on your list?

Honestly, I didn’t do many of the things I had planned to do in London. I didn’t have time to play tourist in my own city because, well, I spent 2 weeks laughing.

That is not to say that I did nothing. I went to two fabulous hen parties and two amazing weddings, I went out to eat with old friends, went on long country walks and had a very decadent afternoon tea at the Mandarin Oriental. And yet, what I remember most was how much I laughed. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt at the end of the day and my mascara ended up running in unattractive lines down my face. All that laughing had very little to do with where I was (London was rather rainy apart from two sunny days) but who I was with.

My friends have somewhat unfortunately ended up scattered across the globe. England has a smattering of amazing school friends in London, Sunderland, Bristol and Edinburgh but from that point onwards it all gets rather aggravatingly international. Oman, Sri Lanka, Madagascar, Dubai, New York…you would think that we hated each other from the way we have all fled out across the globe. Luckily, we have email and Skype and all sorts of other fancy tech to keep us in touch. But there is nothing quite like being together. Nothing quite like watching someone bust out a hilarious dance move, or cry as they try to tell a joke, or laugh so hard they snort and then laugh some more. There are some things that you just can’t capture over the computer.

Luckily, I have enough happy memories to keep me going until the next time we get together and I’d rather have those memories than a checklist of sites seen any day.

We have had two part-time employees and lots of contractors for almost a year. They are all amazing, and we are pretty sure that they don’t hate us, but how can we be the best we can be?

Over my life I have had wonderful employers and not-so wonderful ones. I have worked in offices and newsrooms and restaurants, and the traits that have made someone inspire me to work for them (or not) have easily spanned all those industries.

Most of us have answered to a boss at someone point in our lives, so what one word would you use to describe your perfect employer?

I have been brainstorming and these are the best that I have come up with so far:

1. Encouraging
2. Clear
3. Approachable
4. Focused
5. Organised
6. Forward-thinking
7. Receptive
8. Motivating
9. Capable
10. Trustworthy

I’m still thinking and I would love your input.

In the meantime, I’m off to start cooking lunch because I definitely think that a good boss should make their team some yummy treats to keep them going in the middle of the day!

It has been over 18 months since I was last on British soil and I’m very excited to catch up with some of my amazing friends. I’ll be staying in London for most of the trip and I’m starting to make a dream list of all the places I want to go while I’m there. So far these have made it to the top of my list…

1. Spending a Sunday mincing around Columbia Road Market and hopefully making it over here for a cupcake or two.
2. Feasting over a vegetarian lunch with my mum at Ottolenghi.
3. Making it back to my old neighbourhood for a rarified pub dinner at the Albion.
4. Stinking up my luggage with some of the exceptional cheese from La Fromagerie.
5. Poking my head around the bookshelves here before settling down to some afternoon tea and cake.
6. Taking a cultural break for all the gluttony at the Tate Modern and the National History Museum.
7. Getting to Borough Market early enough on a Friday to miss the crowds and settle down for some people watching at Monmouth while cradling a mug of cup.
8. Renting a couple bikes to check out the park life with Jeremy. Taking a ride along the edge of Regent’s Canal.
9. Escaping the city for a couple days with some friends and messing around on the seaside.

I’m loyal to my favourite places but this time I have told myself that I should break out of the mould and explore some new spots that are supposed to be amazing. I’m saving up my pennies for here…

St John's

And here…

Dock Kitchen

And hopefully here…

Rochelle Canteen

No doubt, there are lots of other gems that I should explore. To those of you who know the city better than I do, where else should I put on my list?

Have I scared you off? Hopefully not. 2% of people are published and there are definitely ways to make sure that you have the best chance possible. For the purposes of this piece I’m going to be speaking about non-fiction (from what I have heard about fiction it involves writing a brilliant novel and then going out and convincing an agent and editor that it would be worth their while to publish it).

Non-fiction requires more planning and strategy up front. It requires you to think like a marketer, to try and answer all the questions that some future editor might ask.

Sound like fun? Perhaps not, but writing is a job, and, just like anything else, there will always be parts that aren’t as wonderful as others. You need to create a professional looking proposal that tells agents and editors that you are serious, that you will help them to sell your book, that you are not sitting around waiting for them to do all the hard work. There are lots of things you should do and no ‘right’ way or going about this but your proposal should probably include:

1. Cover Page
2. Table of contents
3. About the book (1 page summary)
4. About the author
5. About the market
6. About the competition
7. Production details
8. About promotion
9. Table of contents (title for each chapter of your book)
10. Short summaries for each chapter
11. 2 or 3 sample chapters

Your finished book may end up nothing like your proposal but it is a good start, a good path to start going down. Once you have a proposal you can create a succinct, polished query letter to send out to agents. Take your time over this – in many ways the query letter is the most important few paragraphs you have written so far. It has to grab their attention and get them hooked enough to ask for your entire proposal.

Give yourself an outrageous goal. For instance, I told myself that I wouldn’t stop sending my query out until 100 agents said no to me. Hopefully you won’t get anywhere close to that number but it is good to prepare yourself, to grow a carapace of sorts. Lots of agents will not be interested. Don’t let that stop you. Keep sending out your query letter, keep networking, keep telling everyone about your book. Be shameless at trying to get an agent because, as difficult as it is to land an agent, your chances are far better than going directly to the editor and having your work end up on the dreaded slush pile….the graveyard of unsolicited manuscripts.

Once you have a good agent you have someone who can take your manuscript to the ‘right’ publishing house and steer you through the pitfalls of the whole process. At the end of it all, once you have signed a contract with your agent and a publishing house, you can breath easy for a few hours. But only a few hours, because now you have to write the book that you sold to them so well. The fun is just beginning…

I remember a conversation that Jeremy and I had, early on, when we were sitting in our first Brooklyn sublet, eating soft boiled eggs on the floor. We had no furniture, no jobs, no money and we were two weeks away from being homeless. It was all a bit Withnail and I and a tad depressing. We had big plans but we had yet to sell a book or launch a business.

With egg dripping off his toast soldiers, Jeremy asked me to list all the things that I really wanted (or wanted to do) that I was willing to give up:

• Long stints of travel
• A predictable life
• A safe, healthy bank account
• Saving for a house
• Some beautiful possessions
• A good work, life balance
• An apartment with doors
• Plenty of time outdoors

On another sheet of paper we wrote down the things that we refused to give up:

• Each other
• Seeing our friends
• Closeness to our family
• Good food
• Writing and the success of the business

Our list has changed since then, it has grown and evolved with us. But it was helpful to have to keep us on track early on.

So what do you want and, perhaps more importantly, what will you give up to have it?

First, you need to love writing and you need to know what good writing is. As Ira Glass explains, most people get into creative work because they have good taste. They may not be able to create great work immediately, but they know it when they see it. You have to read enough to know what good language tastes like, what it feels like on the page. Even Hunter S. Thompson used to type out pages from “The Great Gatsby” just to feel what it was like to write like Fitzgerald.

You need to understand the rules. You need to understand structure and character development and plot and the cadence of spoken language. You can get that from reading, from asking questions, from taking lessons, from whatever source you fancy, but you need to make yourself an expert in your chosen field.  Then, once you know the rules, you can break out of the structure, or choose stay with in it. You can be as creative as your imagination will allow.

You need to see your writing as a job, a skill that you want to hone. You don’t have to write on a typewriter, or only write great work, or ask for others praise. You just have to write. You have to write every day. You have to have faith that the rubbish you are putting down on paper will gradually improve into something you can be proud of.

It may take you years but, once you have created something that you don’t hate, you should start to get feedback. Start off with your mum or your best friend if you want. Give yourself a little confidence boost. Then choose people from your field and ask them to be brutally honest. Heed their advice. Edit. Show them again. Try not to be destabilized by negative reactions. Start again if you have to. Push yourself to improve. Don’t give yourself a hard time if it takes a while. That’s normal. Keep going. Finally, be proud of yourself. Be proud that you stuck with it. Be proud that you have created a piece of work that you don’t hate, something that know is pretty great.

That’s my advice but what do you think? How do you make your work as good as your ambitions?

Check out this great video made to the words of Ira Glass:

I’m not sure if I should be grateful or embarrassed.

I just called the NYPD to my apartment.

Half an hour ago, at about 1:30am, I got up to open the bathroom door and it was locked. Not just stuck, or cranky, properly locked. And Jeremy was in the other room. Not ideal. Definitely not great news. But how bad could it be? We had been home all night. Jeremy came over to check it out. We were joking, worrying about logistics. Then we heard something. A shuffle perhaps. Had the front door been unlocked? Had someone snuck in without us knowing?

We did not stop to think why an intruder would take the time to break into our apartment only to hide in our bathroom. Instead, we stood very close to the door and listened. Close enough that we would have been trampled if someone had come flying out the door, close enough that we thought we heard something else. Jeremy wedged his foot up on the door. We stood there for a moment, petrified.

Finally, I knocked on the door across the hall and woke up our neighbors. Barrel-chested and dopey from sleep, the husband answered the door as he pulled on his trousers. “What’s going on honey?” I fumbled and stumbled and explained that I suspected there might be an intruder in my bathroom. He looked surprised but not exactly scared, not exactly sure why I had woken him up to tell him such wonderful news. “Well, lets call the cops.” For some reason the thought had not even crossed my mind.

So with the couple peering out from their doorframe, and Jeremy leaning against the door, I dialed 911 for the first time in my life. I spoke to the women for three minutes, hung up, and the ‘boys’ arrived in four.

Five of them buzzed the door bell, a blur of close cropped hair and navy blue uniforms came pounding up the creaking stairs. “We’re here now. Step aside”. Like some scene from the Wire, they cocked their guns and broke down the measly door.

There was no one there.

The couple from next door looked dazed, Jeremy and I looked sheepishly relieved, and the cops made some joke about gargantuan rats in the area. It was all blissfully anti-climatic. As they marched away, their bulk taking up most of the staircase, I felt ridiculously grateful to be living in a neighborhood where five policemen will be at my door in five minutes flat. Ridiculously grateful to my poor neighbors and Jeremy and the good-humored boys in blue.