Today, I’m not feeling 100%, so I’m writing in bed. It feels like a treat. It’s been a full couple of months: multiple book festivals, travels to Italy and the US, hosting a retreat, finishing touches to my novel, reading a lot of books for the Women’s Prize and running this Substack full-time.
Paul took this picture below and I don’t know why I look so small and the bed looks so ginormous. It feels personal to share bed-writing but I love that I can share these little snippets of writing life behind the paywall (and not on social media). I have a cup of tea next to me in my beloved MoMa mug from New York, a copy of
’s Wintering for company and I’m making progress on a new manuscript. I have some new headphones which I’m loving and there’s two new books on Tarot at the end of my bed (my new obsession). Paul’s side is less cluttered. I read multiple books at once, he’s reading the new Sally Rooney carefully and mindfully, as is his way.