Emily Wilcox
Any excuse to show off my space wall, you know?

“Tell me about yourself,” my date asked. His jawline was sharp, gaze sharper and so I was blunt.

“I’ve got such trapped wind right now.”

Yeah. Yeah. He’s not my date anymore.

What Am I?

There are so many things I could tell you about myself. That’s true of all of us. So…

Honestly, I tend not to reference myself in the third person — as though I am some omnipresent narrator observing myself from a faux leather recliner somewhere, a bowl of sweet and salty popcorn perched in my lap. To me, that would be like commentating the life of a parallel…

Photo by Matias Misael on Unsplash

There’s no point to me. No rhyme nor reason for me being here. I offer nothing of value, I create nothing of worth and when I do try to do something: I mess it up.

I am completely useless.

That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past 25 years…


Photo by author: the stellar outsides of Conwy Castle (with an even stellar gift shop inside).

It’s the same old excuse: “I’ve just been so busy!

But maybe it’s so old and samey because it’s true. And it’s common.

This past month, I’ve just been so busy. I went on holiday at the start of the month (check that Conwy Castle header photo that has nothing…

Emily Wilcox

I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon — but here, I am a writer.

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