Well, I didn't plan to wake up today and make some toast and put a load of laundry in the machine and then burst spontaneously into tears and have a meltdown about everything, but that's exactly what I did. Oops.
So I thought it would be fun to make a list of all the things I'm currently worried about and share it with you! And then I thought that if I did that it would take me so long to write everything down that by the time I'd got to the end of the list I'd have found new things to worry about, so in fact the list would be never-ending, and let's face it, you don't want to read a never-ending list of things I'm worried about, and I sure as hell don't want to have to write one.
So how about ten things I'm worried about right now? YAY! I bet you can't wait! In no particular order except the one in which they occur to me:
1. Michele Bachmann.
2. Have I become one of those bloggers who overuses capital letters? Should I go back through everything I've ever written and edit out the capital letters so I don't sound like just another one of those girls?
3. Do I have a "voice"? I went to a talk on "developing your voice as a writer" once. I don't really remember anything about it, but I do know that it's a thing lots of people say is important and I do know that sometimes, after I wake up feeling like the world is about to end, I write like I'm writing now, and sometimes, when I'm calmer and I've been reading a lot of Geoff Dyer, I write like this. Is there an overlap? Am I just inconsistent?
4. Seriously. Is Michele Bachmann for real?
5. How on earth am I ever going to earn enough money to buy the Man dozens of crisp white Brooks Brothers shirts that I can wear to lounge around the house in?
6. How on earth am I ever going to earn enough money period? I want to be able to buy a big house in the country and fill it with children and dogs and expensive shoes and artwork, or at least to not end up sleeping in the gutter wearing a plastic bag to shelter myself from the unrelenting autumn rain and living off Tesco Value white bread (that stuff isn't really even bread anyway, it's like chemicals in a squishy package).
7. What if writing was supposed to be my hobby, not my job?
8. What if I'm destined for obscurity? Not even miserable, spectacular, Jude Fawley-esque obscurity, but plain, simple, "I'm just existing in the margins of things" obscurity? Why does the prospect of that scare me, when fundamentally I value happiness over fame and glory?
9. Does my hair make my face look fat?
10. Should I worry that all of my worrying probably makes me more prone to disease?
BONUS #11: Was this an appropriately diverse list of things I'm worried about? Did I get the balance right? I don't want to bring everyone down by being too serious, but also I don't want people to think I'm not serious enough. Life is no laughing matter but also nothing but a laughing matter.