I was looking through some old pictures and found the ones from the launch of my first book in 2009. I was so excited--too excited maybe. For a month I was muttering everywhere I walked. I was still in the mental realm of editing, reading galleys, deadlines. Words, words, words. What did they all mean? Last-minute regrets?
Sure, I was ready to stand in front of people and talk about my writing, but I still mostly prefer being in a room by myself writing. I wasn't sure how to concoct a public persona. I worried about what to wear. Clothes of all things! Jewellery I could do. I have lots of big chunky pieces. Makeup? Nah. Whenever I put on lipstick, I smudge it. And I like my blond eyelashes. I don't want them black.
All that silly worry and then five days before the launch I slipped on a patch of ice, fell on my face and broke my glasses.
For five days I watched my eye go from midnight blue to aubergine to green to pomegranate. I forgot about what to wear because who was going to notice the suede piping on my pockets when I had that alien eye?
It's become a life lesson. Doesn't matter what you wear. Try to keep yourself intact.