This month I've thought a lot about what it means to exist in this world. As a woman and as a person. I spoke about the digital creative trap here, and this was certainly influenced by that. Yet I've come to the realisation that we're limiting women, not just in what we do but in our comparisons. Roll with me here.

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I want to live a delusional life. As I step away from putting other people's opinions first, I'm seeing that this includes what others think I can and can't do. Other people's version of my reality.

I was raised on books about strong girls. Matilda Anne (Anne of Green Gables), Sara (Little Princess), the March sisters (Little Women), Mary Lennox (The Secret Garden), Dolphin & Star (The Illustrated Mum) and Tracy Beaker.

All girls who, in some way, weren't afraid to use their voice, who were capable of changing and who fought from the middle of their chest. I loved that idea of standing tall for something.

Over time, I didn't necessarily lose that, but I gained a more mature perspective. That is to say, I stepped foot into adult reality. The world wasn't a meritocracy. There wasn't an easy answer because you tried. And, most certainly, the fire in your heart wasn't enough to get you places.

This reminds me of my favourite Bob's Burgers episode where Linda is talking to her daughter Louise, who is struggling against a loudmouth boy in a class project. She doesn't agree that just because he's a boy, he can do better than her, while being disheartened that her project topic of Amelia Earhart was a 'failure'.
Linda says to Louise while talking about Earhart's mother, "I bet she never said, 'Ooh, girls can do anything boys can do.' Cause you know, sometimes when they say that, it ends up sounding like the opposite."
To which Louise replies, "Yeah. You never said it to me."
Linda answers in one of the most gut-wrenching lines imo (that episode still makes me tear up, can you tell?). She simply says: "It never came up."

I adore the idea of raising girls, of being a woman, that simply doesn't consider placing herself in comparison to another.

But women are still held in comparison to something. Whether it's a boy, another woman, an arbitrary number on the scale, the idea of 'reality'. Women are repeatedly measured up against something.

That's why I read about strong women in literature, because there are moments where they exist without comparison. Matilda thrives when she rejects the constraints of the non-magical world. Tracy is happiest when she rejects what a typical life should be. Louise is happiest when she's not compared to a boy.

Stepping out of someone else's reality can look like so many things to different people. And it's certainly not limited to women or girls. I'm not saying we don't do the same to young boys, but we don't often tell women they can be whatever they want to be. Because they can't.

But what if we did? What if you went for that extravagant publishing deal you've always dreamed of? What if you took big risks to reach the bigger payoff? What if you say no while you wait for a bigger yes?

What if we started living fully in the delusion of our own reality?

I'm starting to do this. In my writing and my work. Although I'm moving in silence with a lot of it, it's bold not to let someone else's belief stop yours.

I can't say it'll pay off, but when we exist in a world that wants to hollow out our creativity and sell our attention, there's something freeing in setting our own limitations. And deciding that potentially, there are none. Hgh

How that looks for me:

• Asking more of what I want

• Saying no

• Walking away from situations that don't feel like they suit me

• Surrounding myself with people who will advocate for me

• Writing in a way that makes me happy

• Embracing what I love (literary references and poetry and dark psychological commentary and women criminals because as a black person I've been told often that I can't be knowledgeable about literature)

TTFN x

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It’s been two months since my debut, Never Alone, came out, and I took the step from aspiring to published author. In that move, I finally got to see what was behind the big, plush publishing curtain. A curtain that I have always wanted to step behind and better understand how books are created, promoted and most importantly, represented.

Let me tell you, it’s been entirely different than I thought. Neither good nor bad, just different.

As with any debut, I really wanted to make a splash, but I learnt quickly how much of publishing happens behind the scenes. Behind another big, plush, possibly red curtain - if you will. (Yes, that’s an em-dash. Eat me.) One thing that I was left questioning is the impact of social media. I’ve since taken a break from IG because it’s become a never-ending content machine, and I’m on maternity leave wrangling a book and a toddler too. That headspace is vital!

After some honest chats with some of my established author friends, I’ve realised that social media doesn’t really have a huge impact in moving the needle of a book. It’s great for connecting with the wonderful community, of course, but we’re all still beholden to the big-grey-algorithm-monster in the sky. Social media is no longer a meritocracy.

Some might argue it never really was, but we’ve now just moved the thin veil (another curtain metaphor…) that sat behind Myspace and Bebo alike. But we’ve certainly lost the nostalgia of it.

Where does it leave us?

As I said, I’m taking some time off social media. Something that, I’ll admit, I never deemed necessary before. But when your livelihood is linked to your digital presence, it feels easy to lay yourself bare, ready and connected to the digital space with hopes of being found by the right readers.

Yet more and more people are implementing pauses, because the algo-monster is violent. He won’t stop itching at you to create-consume-repeat. And in that, we take away what social once was: connection.

I love the days of pictures with no context, deep conversations and blurred memories we need to encapsulate in a digital space. But I’m an analogue girl at heart, preferring the physical medium over the digital. Digital once served as a happy medium that created a new equilibrium, but has since become a never-ending scroll station.

As I take time away from it, to write but also reassess my career, I’m hoping to find a way to use social media in a healthy but beneficial way. To still connect with community but to not be so readily available as I once was.

With a baby, a toddler and an overactive imagination, I need all the space I can get. But in the first few months, I have discovered what makes a real impact in getting your book out there to the readers who will love it. I’ll be sharing more of the things that worked in a semi-regular (remember: baby, toddler, wild imagination) collection of articles.

For now, I leave you with the thought: what do you think is missing from social media?

Me? The sense of it mirroring our real experiences; a full album of terrible selfies with friends, a picture of something we liked or a post in the hopes of finding people who get it.

Thanks for catching up!

What am I reading?

Beyond revisiting some craft books to get myself back into the right space, I’m reading Night Stairs by Erin Kelly. To my chagrin, it’s the first Kelly book I’ve read. She’s phenomenal as a writer. I saw her speak at Harrogate, which helped me understand the wider history of the novel. I’m not going at any great pace (remember, reader, baby, toddler and the little fairies in my brain) but it’s entirely delectable.

What am I watching?

As I remain on maternity leave, my viewing has digressed into reruns of comedy shows. Yet, I will argue to the floor that comedy is one of the best forms of writing to study, and so I call it craft work and will carry on binge-watching while the baby sleeps. I’m watching 30 Rock, which has aged considerably well, all things considered. I adore Tina Fey’s writing, and it’s fun seeing SNL drop-ins now that I’m an avid SNL fan.

All my articles and ideas are written without AI

Roll with me on this. Growing up as a weird, theatre girl who loved singing loudly everywhere, would do handstand press-ups when I needed to move and could talk the ear off of everyone; that’s an odd thing to say out loud. I have sung on stage, worked in journalism, spoken at conferences filled with high-profile marketing professionals, and run talks about my fifteen-year-long eating disorder for BEAT.

My life was never a closed, quiet book.

And yet, somewhere between a lifetime diagnosis, two children, a pregnancy loss and a debut book, I quietened myself.

I realised I didn’t like to be perceived.

A funny thing to notice after I chose a public-facing hobby (aka writing) and a professional career focused on social media.

But we ride.

The truth about being perceived

Being perceived now means that I am far more focused, concise and deliberate. Someone once said to me, “You are nothing like you seem online”. And honestly, that couldn’t be truer. In person, I am all words. They tumble out of me and make no sense. I swear. I joke. I’m overly friendly, and I overshare. I’m deliberate in being myself because I like that vulnerability and I gravitate to those who are the same. Online, I am careful, cautious and self-deprecating.

It’s easy to think that this is a bad thing. In a way, as someone who is more publicly facing (although not publicly known), I am aware that my words and choices live online forever. They don’t move in isolation from who I am. Which is fine. But it’s also made me cautious.

Where I used to write freely, I overthink.

Where I used to create, I ruminate.

Where I used to know what I wanted to say, I worry about how it will be received.

Again, not always a bad thing. But a difference.

Personal essays and perception

Sometimes it’s doing the thing that scares you the most that has the most benefit. Cliche as it sounds, it’s true. I’ve had some wonderful chats with a friend of mine about a life decision that really wasn’t that difficult to make. But the one recurring point was: I wanted to get it right.

Yet nothing we do is ever right. A dear therapist of mine (go to therapy pals) who worked with me in such a way that it felt like a friend guiding me home, once said: it is the right thing to do based on the information available to you at the time.

I like that. And so, here I am. Writing a personal essay that may be devoid of an overall relatable point with a sleeping baby in my arms and a sick toddler in my bed. Showing up because I need to do that to accept that being perceived isn’t that bad (neuro tendencies aside), when I continue to show up as myself.

I love writing personal essays. Not because they light the algorithm on fire, or because they shoot up my social stats, but because it makes my little part of the internet feel like mine.

So, if I am to be perceived (and we have discovered that this is mandatory), then let it be as I am, flawed, waffly, weird and vulnerable. Just as I am in real life.

I hope you post that thing, unedited and unconscious of what others may think, and enjoy showing up as you.

Tata for now x

From my teens, phrases like ‘let me know if you need anything’ or ‘how can I help?’ came far more naturally than setting a simple boundary or trying out the word ‘no’. Despite forming into a teenager who was so desperate to fit into the white area she grew up in that she genuinely considered skin bleaching (more on that later) and made friends with some bad people (more on that much, much later), I wasn’t always a people-pleaser. I’m a self-taught people-pleaser. Over time, I picked it up from my parents (my mother in particular, sorry mum), my Nan (a legend in her own right but very much aware of that generational pull of ‘what will others say’), and my desperation to be accepted as the only black person in the group.

Race certainly played a big part in my self-taught crash course in putting others above myself. But teenage years are tough for everyone; we all wore dodgy outfits (ugh..shorts over tights) and went through a heavy emo-fringe stage that we secretly miss. But as the only person of colour, with no real connection to my assumed ‘roots’, I felt like I was floating. I wasn’t black enough (because of many reasons but mainly being 4th gen) and I wasn’t white. I was privately educated until college, and that in itself carried its own assumptions of stereotypes that I didn’t fit. Cue from here years of ‘finding myself’ only to learn that I was dulling myself down.

By the time I hit my twenties, I was in the depths of an eating disorder that would take a chunk of my life and was willing to remove any part of myself that others deemed inconvenient.

But remember, we said no tiny violins. This isn’t a sad story. Over time, I worked hard, and over the years, I have picked up a few people I can really be my weird, non-traditional self with. I got married, I travelled, I found joy, I had children, and I wrote. I also navigated hardships, mourned, and lost friends. In all other respects, I was well-rounded. But setting a boundary felt like a barely used muscle, weak, atrophied and in need of some physio.

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Then I published my novel. Well, no, that’s clickbait. In reality, I had my first child, and then I pursued writing as a serious career path; both slowly nudging the idea that I couldn’t be a people-pleaser anymore. But when I published my novel, the reality hit. People will dislike, publishers will reject it, somewhere, someone will be unhappy with me. Having my daughter taught me to model setting boundaries. Publishing my art, taught me to be comfortable with being disliked.

That’s not to say that I enjoy being disliked but that I am relearning what matters. We all do this, no one is static. Our identities are fluid, we are free to change, grow and even shrink in anyway that suits us. Have a look at what Olympian Eileen Gu says about metacognition for a better example. What feels new to me, is switching off that need to explain myself, dull myself, dilute my ideas or make myself more palattable. As a woman, a black woman and a queer being, that choice is still sometimes considerd revolutionary.

And so, I am learning to let myself be, in a way that pleases me first (and remains legal, lets not jump into the thriller world just yet!). And I hope that others remember to do the same.

TTFN x

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The Unlikeable Character

I love the unlikeable character. In fact, I like any character who wears their flaws on their sleeves, from The Talented Mr Ripley to Yellowface. One day, I will write a whole article on why we so desperately need unlikeable characters in literature.

But, as my book heads out into the world, there’s a thought which struck me:

You aren’t meant to like unlikeable characters, but you should be able to see something of yourself in them.

Because they hold up a messy, broken mirror to their flaws.

And that’s why I loved writing Ella and her Stalker. And I hope you find yourself staring at them, infuriated by them, but unable to look away from them.

Which character have you never liked but couldn’t stop reading?

TTFN x

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Reading

I’m jumping into cult research and had this on my shelf for years. It’s messy, confusing, mysterious and sultry. I love the island setting and the dark question mark that hangs over it.

Initially, the Stalker voice was someone I couldn’t shift, and it became what I wanted to write about most. Over time, Ella formed, as did the hook question and finally, the premise. This, of course, boils it down in a way that doesn’t do book writing any justice. There were many iterations, many tearful moments and many years spent forming it.

But one thing I always wanted to write was a thriller that put people of colour at the centre of the story without placing race in there. I appreciate, especially now, that race is such an important topic. Yet, there’s something so lovely about picking up a book and seeing yourself reflected in the characters, even in a small way.

I wanted to read stories of people who looked like me that didn’t focus purely on our pain or painful experiences. I also wanted more queer characters. Jude initially was queer, and her storyline was centred around that. But over time, that shifted for different reasons, and it saddens me that there’s no queer representation in my book. (Next time!)

I can’t say that Never Alone truly represents a diverse audience; no one book can ever say that. But they do say you should write what you want to see in the world, and I love that I got to write about characters that look like me being put through the wringer purely because that’s what’s happening, not because they are minorities.

And in true psychological thriller fashion, there’s no saying who you can trust, what you can expect and who is safe, but that makes it even more exciting in my opinion.

So, that’s it. Never Alone was always meant to be that story I hadn’t seen enough of. A story of people who looked like me doing unexpected things in challenging situations. Oh, and subverting expectations. Always. We should always be subverting expectations, dear reader!

Have I enticed you into buying? Why not preorder and take advantage of Waterstones 25% off sale with the code FEB26 between 17th and 20th February.

This is tongue in cheek, please don't take this too seriously. If you don't have a toddler, replace it with anything that may be demanding all of your attention and time; work, pets, that knitting project you keep forgetting you're doing.

Novel writing vs Toddlers

Writing your novel, much like having a toddler, is a long process that is often made easier with snacks. When you think they’re done, like reaching draft 6 (no wait 7) or after a 9pm bedtime, they’ll hit you with one more plot hole or a “I need a wee”.

There’s always something to work on, but getting to the proof reading stage is often the last step. And, in my opinion, the hardest one.

So, remember:

They are unruly

Toddlers or novels, there's no difference for this one. They are unruly. Your job here is to take a messy first draft (or an over tired hangry three year old) and make it into something that people understand. Or is at least acceptable in public.

They are hard work

Showing up, day after day, is tough. You love the book (and that toddler of yours) but it's a lot of work. Don't ever undersell the effort it takes to write a novel and the fact that you're doing it.

Sometimes you need a break

This may be niche to those with children (or pets) but sometimes you need a break from both your novel and your toddler. You love them. There's no denying that. But you can't keep at something when it's all you see. Read another book, work on a different draft, or pause altogether. And if we're going with the kid analogy, go for dinner, have a bath, do anything without a toddler next to you.

They are amazing

Don't let society undersell how impressive it is to write a novel. Don't let society undersell how hard it is to raise people or care for someone in this current climate.

You need to accept the imperfections

Your book won't be flawless. Your children are flawed. It's a hard one to accept but it's true. Love the quirks of your kids and the lumps and bumps of your novel. The true VIPs in your life will too.

It's yours, and that's what matters

Whether that's the first (second, third or fourth) book you've written or a snotty toddler that shouts for you from across the playground to watch them “run real fast”. That thing is yours. It's beautiful and messy, it took a lot from you and it reflects you. Enjoy that.

So, at the end of the day, wherever you are in your writing journey, know that you're doing amazingly. And if you're wrangling a toddler, know that at some point they'll go to bed. Either way, you're doing great.

Never Alone, a psychological thriller

One day, over three years ago I sat down with a what-if question. A question that formed and grew a life of it’s own and became the novel that was announced last week: Never Alone. A dual point-of-view psychological thriller following Ella and her unknown stalker.

To say I am excited to have this book out in the world, is an understatement. I can’t begin to describe this feeling, of seeing it and knowing that people will one day soon read it. But if I tried to describe the world I'm in now, it would have to come down to: excited-terrified-hopeful-proud.

The journey here hasn't been easy (or simple) and there were so many moments of self doubt around the idea. Writing from a stalkers perspective, however, was so deliciously challenging that even when I tried to move away from it, I couldn't.

I could ramble forever about what writing it meant, but that's not always an enjoyable read. What I will say is this:

For any writers struggling, there's always going to be the voice that makes you doubt what you're creating. External or internal. Often, that voice should be ignored, only acknowledged in a few moments between wake and sleep, or trying something new. Because however scary it is, if you keep trying, the results are always far more enjoyable then sitting down for tea with the fear.

What is Never Alone about?

What would you do if a threat was found on your pillow?
What would you do if you knew the sender and how they could destroy you?
What is your freedom worth?

How far would you go to seek revenge on the person who ruined your life? How much of your sanity is the justice worth?
How much blood on your hands is too much?

Never Alone follows Ella and her stalker in their twisted game of cat-and-mouse, where no-one can be trusted.

Who is Ella?

Ella is everything you would expect from a wealthy criminal-podcaster. She’s ambitious, savvy and a little self-conscious. On the surface, Ella has it all. Living in the gated community in the rolling countryside her house is the centre of attention, the pinnacle of high-society success. And Ella uses that success to push herself even further in life, starting a blossoming podcast as Crimin-El.

But like anyone in the limelight, Ella has a lot to hide.

Who is our stalker?

The unknown face feels familiar, in the way they lurk in the shadows and can anticipate Ella’s every move. It’s almost as though they’ve done this before. But there’s no boundaries when it comes to justice, when it comes to doing what’s right. And people like Ella deserve to have reality slap them in their overly-spoilt faces.

It doesn’t make them a bad person, does it?

Where can you read Never Alone?

If the above has made you desperate to read more, then follow the preorder link to find all the stockist of Never Alone.

Get an early copy

If you fancy reviewing or grabbing an early copy, please fill out this form - I’d love to share the book with you!

V

That moment in the festive period is nearly here, the moment where days blend and time becomes obsolete. It’s a period of time that I both hate and adore. There’s nothing better than spending those days reading or covering classic songs on the piano. But the perfectionist in me really craves the routine. I thrive with a structure that I can throw out of the window in favour of doing something else entirely!

With a little one in tow, this time of year is even more beautiful/chaotic (pick one, it’ll be both), and I adore it.

This year I’m carving out time to read, something I haven’t had the space to do in such a long time. I’ve been so focused on getting my debut novel to the point that it can be shared, and soon it will be, which means I am done (in a way). Now, it’s time to replenish all the things that I love.

Recently, I finished Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, a book that I was avoiding for a long time. If I am honest, I thought it was too ‘advanced’ for me. Shockingly enough, I adored it. It shifted something in me, and now I wanted nothing more than to devour gothic-inspired, tangled, murky books with gut-wrenching protagonists. That’s how I plan to spend this season, reading and searching for inspiration for book two.

How will you be spending it?

Currently listening….

If you know me, you know I love ethereal female vocals and melodramatic orchestral accompaniments. Loud by Olivia Dean combines both of them in such a beautiful way. Her throaty twang at the start of the song is delicious, plus the crescendo of the violins makes me so happy (my husband says I love a progressive chord but what can I say?!).

Can’t wait to read…

Room 706 by Ellie Leveson has been everywhere on my social media, and rightly so. This book is out on 15th Jan and looks amazing. It follows Kate, who is trapped in a hotel room when the place is taken under siege. The only problem is that no-one knows that she’s there. She’s been so careful with her affair. The premise is so strong and already I am desperate to understand who Kate is.

I wanted to share some, maybe in a series, maybe not.

What are your 3am thoughts?

If watching television is so bad, why does it feel so magical to curl up on the sofa with my toddler and laugh to our bellys at the things we watch?

Autumn leaves offer a sense of something that no shopping haul or capitalist purchase ever will.

I wonder if the fish in the oceans know how much freedom they have.

Will I ever finish my entire library, and do I want to?

My husband said water is sh!t and there were too many answers against that, that I was paralysed into silence. But maybe it's grounds for divorce?

Baby penguins, baby owls, baby robins…. Elite.

When they scan for a baby, why don't they see your intestines?

In some way, society teaches us that failure is bad.

I'd love to hear your 3am thoughts.

Honestly, when I first considered starting a Substacks I promised myself I wouldn’t delve into the raw, vulnerability that I often find myself. After all, who wants to see that? But then I find myself drawn to topics that play in my mind, while I am showering, or parenting or working. Things that are true to me, and this is one of them.

The writing community is a strong and powerful place. Whether you’re just starting as a writer trying to craft your first ever draft, or you’re a seasoned best-seller, having a group of people you can lean on, bond with and support each other through the tough times is invaluable. Writing, by its nature, is a solitary pursuit. It’s easy to lose yourself behind a screen or tucked into a notebook ruminating on the worlds you’re creating, not once looking up. There’s no doubting that having people by your side, through the query trenches or the inevitable rejections, is key.

But what does it mean when these things don’t come easily?

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a ‘woe-is-me’ post. I’m not here to write a detailed, melancholic account of having no friends. Instead, I want to reflect on why, for so many of us, the first step in finding that community can feel so hard.

It’s fair to say that the shiny versions of ‘finding your people’ on social media can often make it seem as though one simply enters into a room and shouts a greeting, only to be surrounded by a flock of like-minded kin ready to cheer you on. That’s a generalisation, of course, but the beauty of social media is that it often looks over the nuances involved.

Very few times do we see the monotonous challenges faced when reaching a goal, and the active discipline it takes to achieve something. And the same can be said, in a way, about finding your writing people.

There are so many different places and forms of these people who will click with you and the stories you’re trying to tell, but in a nutshell, it’s akin to making friends at school all over again. And that means being proactive.

There’s an undeniable awkwardness in trying to proactively find people who ‘get’ you. Being vulnerable (there it is again, that persistent companion lurking in the shadows) and putting yourself out there. If you’re neurodiverse, that may feel harder, but what works for some doesn’t have to be what works for you. I have learnt that the best way to find people who love your authentic self, is to be out there in a way that makes you comfortable. Just as we must put ourselves out there with our writing, we must put ourselves out there to find champions of our writing.

That’s where I am at now. I am actively working at connecting with other writers (and readers, of course) to build something that I can call a community. Without the select few in my corner, I know I wouldn’t be in that blessed place where I am shifting from writer to debut author. And so, I want to grow those in my corner more as I step into that unknown world.
I am attending writing groups and retreats, going to book events (when parenting commitments allow), talking online to people more and doing something I have always found difficult: being vulnerable.

And perhaps, it’ll take time to find that powerful circle, but in the meantime, I am grateful for the friendships I have formed and those I’m meeting.

So, if you’re yet to find your writing community, or struggling to find what that means to you, my takeaway is: explore different ways of finding people that you click with (especially if you’re ND), and know that it takes time.

And to all those lovely friends in my circle who chat books, listen to my writing vn and have been by my side; thanks for being the start of my community.

VW x

Listening

I’ve loved Cat Burns for years, but the new album has me in a bit of a broken chokehold. How To Be Human is on repeat, the lyrics are a masterpiece, and her vocals are everything. It’s my start-the-day song and my wind-down moment.

Watching

We are falling fast into rerun season, where my brain needs as little new information to process and a lot of relaxation in between the chaos of birthdays, Christmas and that weird sensation when you forget which day it is. But, I did watch Luca while vetting which shows/films were suitable for my little one, and I have to say, it was heart-warmingly fun. Luca’s energy is infectious (a word which my manuscript editor would argue I overuse but rings true here), and seeing the world for the first time through his eyes was lovely.

That said, I still haven’t finished it. So, who knows what the last 20 minutes hold?

Can’t wait to read

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

“One morning, Natalie wakes up in a strange, horrible version of reality. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but something’s off. Is this a hoax? A reality show? A test from God? One thing Natalie does know is that it’ll make one hell of an Instagram post…” - Waterstones

This book sounds amazing! The classic dystopian twist on a thrilling novel is exactly what I need. I love the sense of doom, that something is just a little off. It’s giving me Turman-show vibes with a horror story tinge. The story has social media at its focal point, too, which I hope will play a pivotal role as the story develops.

I love the change in seasons, any season really. It’s grounding watching nature shift, reminding me that it is part of a much wider purpose. That there’s a cycle out there that requires no input, that will carry on long after we are gone, and thrives in its synchronicity. It makes me want to reach for an old science textbook and learn about something I long forgot. Or, write in increasingly poetic ways, as you can see.

This is also the time of year that feels calming. It’s my favourite. The different autumnal colours, the sound of the leaves, a cold blue sky and a crisp morning while you’re still warm in bed. Increasingly, I get to do less of what I used to this time of year. Lie-ins with coffee have been replaced with sudden wakeups by stuffed animals in my face. A long, winter walk and a mulled wine is now a short totter and hot chocolate by the swings.

Things are different, and with my debut coming out next year, they’re shifting again. I’m trying to navigate the murky middle of waiting to announce my book, waiting to share and (inevitably) waiting to let people read it. That, alongside growing a baby, raising a toddler and working. It’s all very real.

So my reading has changed, I’m now seeking beautifully different sort of reads. It started with reading some old favourite romantic comedies (all of Sophie Kinsella’s backlog), and then it evolved. I’m devouring anything autumnal, anything romantic or cosy, anything with big sweeping grand gestures and reluctant protagonists that don’t know what they need. I just finished one about forced proximity on a boat. It was delicious.

This isn't my usual style of fiction but there's such a talent in making unlikely situations deliciously real. For years, my reading was set in reality of painful situations, hurt families, lost children, moral conundrums. Dark, gripping, terrifying, reflective of society reads that followed me around with big lumbering questions about life. Now, I want to escape. To cosy coffee shops where the disgruntled boss/coffee barista who slowly falls in love with the bilingual woman who comes in to read to the local children (is this a book, could someone write it?). I’m (re) appreciating enemies-to-lovers in the workplace, second chances in the bookshops and childhood reunions on abandoned islands.

This is a post, essentially, celebrating those shifts and the books that come with us. Because that’s what good stories do: they meet us where we are.

x

Listening

Raye has caught my soul since the days of Sober (stripped), her singing is both raw and captivating. WHERE THE HELL IS MY HUSBAND has been on repeat in my house. Only ever moved aside for SIX from the musical SIX at my daughter’s demand.

Watching

Look, judge all you want, but I need a little bit of drama at times. MAFS is the guilty pleasure I am not ashamed of liking. Sometimes I watch it to better understand them (why do they cry when they choose to leave? Surely you don’t want to stay with someone you don’t like). Sometimes I watch to better understand the show. Either way, I’m watching.

Can’t wait to read

The Merge by Grace Walker (out November 2025)

“Faced with the reality of losing her forever, Amelia signs them up to take part in the world’s first experimental merging process for Alzheimer’s patients” - Waterstones

This is a slightly futuristic story of love, hope and the modern world. When Amelia and her mother, Laurie, move to The Village with other potential ‘merge’ patients, they soon learn that everything is not as it seems.

In fact, it was something I actively pushed away from, for reasons I can't quite fathom now. But as I find myself balancing a debut novel, pregnancy and parenting, I realised that those worlds aren't separate. Or at least, not easily separated. Despite my best efforts, parenting is intertwined with my writing. Even if it's an awareness of pushing one aside while I actively pursue another.

The more writers and debut novelists I met, the more I realised I wasn't alone in that. Be it parenting or chronic illness, or care responsibilities. No one is simply just the one-dimensional ‘author’. Like all humans, we are complex. And it's not fair to put the pressure on being able to focus solely on one, when they inevitably intertwine.

The difficulty I face now, as have many before me, is that balance. And let me tell you, I'm not getting it right. The debut novel edits sit untouched, although I ruminate on it often. The toddler is downstairs fending for herself, with her dad, but that doesn't have the same dramatic feel. And I'm lying in bed writing a blog post and disguising it as ‘rest’. I would argue that rest comes in many forms, and this is the cathartic unwinding that I need after a sleepless night.

But then the question I ask myself is, is there ever really a perfect balance to it? Being a writer is a lonely game, at times, and the tendency for perfection creeps in often enough that sometimes I lose sight of where I am going. If I spend my time trying to balance the perfect trifector between parenting, writing and me - I'm doomed to fail. Not to be dismissive but humans aren't perfect. Perfection isn't achievable here.

So, what is?

For me, it's an acceptance of the ebbs and flows of each of my identities, and how they intertwine. A long writing day may mean less parenting play time. A tricky bump in pregnancy may equal no words on the page. A sleepless night with the toddler may call for a morning of coffee, cuddles and magnatiles. All of which, in essence, is perfect. It's exactly what I needed.

In short, this post is somewhat of an out loud journey to accepting that being a parent, being anything and a writer, can't happen in isolation.

If you love the Good Place, some would say (me) that the journey forward is a lot more Jeremy Beremy than we realise. And the best we can do is accept that.

If you know me, you know I love to plan. My need to organise everything goes hand in hand with the anxiety to get it ‘right’ (trademark: me). Creating this Substack was no different. I started it, deleted it, restarted it, talked about it, mulled it over, and walked away until I felt ready. In all honesty, this feels so close to my old blogging days that the vulnerability scares me.

And that’s entirely why I’m jumping in blindly.

There’s something so telling about vulnerability, at least for me. Particularly in this current climate of curated feeds and organised thoughts. Everything is polished, dare I say, perfect. And when you’re not that, it can be hard to not internally label yourself ‘not good enough’. Or at least I do.

Self-doubt’s greatest album

Not Good Enough was the backing track to my teenage years, as I am sure many other teenage-us felt. It was followed, of course, by self-doubt’s other greatest hits:

• Why Did You Say That?

• No one Likes You!

• Boys, What’s The Big Deal? (Spoiler alert, teenage me liked girls and theys too).

I share these candid thoughts not because they follow me still, but because they marked the start of something I’ve never let go of: the permission to do it scared. The mantra that followed me through my twenties and onwards, that allowed me to throw away my detailed content plan (as a digital marketer, that one was hard) and write from the feels.

Always do it scared.

Jumping in blindly

‘Do it scared’ got me through more situations and achieving more of my dreams than I ever thought possible. So, when the vulnerability cropped up, I had to accept that perhaps this meant there was something beautiful and enticing to come from blindly building a Substack. Writing from the heart again. Showing up as me.

Okay, I lied, there’s a little plan

But with anything I do, there’s always a bit of a goal attached. I may be doing this without a structured plan but it’s not without it’s purpose.

The Other VW (which stands for Victoria West, of course, no chance of confusing that branding), is a space for community around writing, fiction, ideas and creativity. It’s a space to share and explore for both sides of the screen. Becoming an author can often feel isolating, so I am shaping a space that I need.

It won’t be polished, but it’ll exist.

You can expect: stories I loved, dark ideas I can’t hold onto, spaces to talk, sharing of ideas, rambles, writing insights, honesty and space.

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Who is this space for?

Honestly, everyone. But if you’re a little bit odd and you like your stories a little bit different, you resonate with feeling the need to connect, or you just like to share (be it books, thoughts, things you enjoy), and there’s a touch of whimsy to you - then it’s especially for you.

And hey, if any of this, in any way, clicked with you - share it in the comments.

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Victoria
(The lesser-known VW)