Do you know who I am?
Diary of an Author: 7-13 April 2025
7 April:
Today I was asked for my signature while checking in to a hotel. I politely informed the receptionist that I do not give autographs. As a Serious Literary Author, I am against the idea of fame, and cannot partake in any activity that perpetuates it. She insisted that the signature was simply a requirement of the check-in process. Clearly this was a ruse designed to extract the autograph from me. When I refused again, she called for the manager, who also told me the signature was standard administrative procedure. Clearly he was in on the scheme. I calmly explained that while I appreciated that they were both such fans of my work, if I were to give them my autograph, I would have to do the same for the many others who often ask for it, such as delivery drivers. Unbelievably, even after this explanation, they still wouldn’t let it drop. No signature, no room, they said. Well, fans or not, I wasn’t going to abandon my SLA principles for them. I said I would take my business elsewhere, stormed out of the building and walked to the next closest hotel. This happened to be a youth hostel, where I was placed in a room with nine young men on a stag party. They refused to keep the noise down, even after I told them who I was.
9 April:
A few days ago I stepped onto the scales and discovered I had gained several pounds. It was obvious why. Lately my head has been filled with even more literary ideas than usual, and it stood to reason that these would be adding to my weight. Clearly it was time to commit all of my ideas to the page. I spent the whole of last week at my desk, furiously writing poems, plays and short stories. So productive was I that I hardly slept and had time only to eat takeaways and fast food. When I had finally transformed every single idea into a literary gem, I left my desk and stepped onto the scales, only to find I had gained several more pounds. There was only one possible explanation. After I had successfully birthed each idea, a new, even heavier and more literary idea must have immediately taken its place. I would no doubt become aware of these new ideas very soon. I smiled ruefully to myself as I reflected on how being a Serious Literary Author can be a heavy burden to bear.
11 April:
Today I noticed that the number of subscribers to my newsletter had decreased. It did not matter to me. Being a Serious Literary Author, I have far more important things to worry about, such as the literariness of my literature. Indeed, the only reason I even saw the number was because I slipped and fell while reciting a sonnet, landing on my laptop and accidentally directing the cursor to the Dashboard button, then the Subscribers tab. And the only reason I knew that the number had decreased was because the same thing happened last week. So unmoved was I by this decrease in subscribers that I barely even registered it. Indeed, when I refreshed the page a few minutes later and saw that the number had decreased again, I was actually amused, and audibly smiled. I then sent a personal email to each unsubscriber, reassuring them that they needn’t worry about having hurt or offended me as I was too busy concentrating on my actual writing to notice their departure. I then made a post on the newsletter application’s public ‘Notes’ platform, calling for new subscribers, and asking people to Like and share the post. This was not an attempt to gain new subscribers, but rather a clever parody of the kind of people who do that sort of thing. When the post caused my subscriber count to drop again, I sent a direct message to the CEO of the newsletter platform, humorously enquiring as to whether a software bug could be responsible. When he hadn’t responded after five minutes, I jokingly threw my laptop against the wall. I then started to cry (with laughter). In today’s online world of narcissism and obsession with metrics, I pride myself on my ability to rise above such things.
13 April:
I have been working on my new spy novel featuring Secret Agent Luke Warm. I am particularly proud of the following passage, in which Agent Warm has just been pushed out of a plane at 45,000 feet.
Warm was now falling towards the earth with—and I can’t stress this enough—no parachute! It was a truly shocking and appalling situation, and one that could only mean certain death. Nobody could possibly survive hitting the ground from 45,000 feet. They would be turned into dust, and the only way to identify them would be via their dental records! **CHECK IF DENTAL RECORDS CAN BE TAKEN FROM DUST**
Suddenly, Warm narrowed his body, placing his arms by his sides with his hands outstretched like fins. He then steered himself to the right. I’m not saying he was flying because that would be stupid but he was controlling his movement through the air. But where was he going??
In the distance, several hundred feet below Warm, was a bright yellow dot. It was the pilot who jumped out of the plane two pages ago!! Warm was going for his parachute!!! He flew towards the pilot, getting closer… closer… closer… closer… (etc.) He then threw his arms around the pilot, sending them both corkscrewing through the air as they both fell together. Had they not been fighting to the death over a single parachute there might have been something quite beautiful, even balletic, about it, but they were so there wasn’t.
In a series of skilful moves, Warm managed to remove the parachute from the pilot’s back. Now they were both holding onto it as they fell. Then Warm did something ingenious. He pointed into the distance, causing the pilot to turn his head to see what he was pointing at. Warm then punched him in the face, causing him to let go of the parachute. The pilot screamed as he realised he was now falling to his death and would never again see his wife who was pregnant with their first child and had also just been given the all-clear from cancer.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am currently saving for a new set of weighing scales as I have decided mine are inaccurate. I would therefore be deeply grateful if you would consider becoming a paid subscriber. These, my most discerning littérateurs, receive access to the full Diary of an Author archive, exclusive essays and Secret Agent Luke Warm extracts, plus an immediate download of my debut book of poems and short fiction. If you are already a paid subscriber, please know that you have my Serious Literary Love and Respect (SLLR).
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Many thanks to all of you who attended my Serious Literary Reading in London last week. Unfortunately, several members of the audience deemed it appropriate to laugh throughout my performance, which I find hard to believe. My next performance will take place in Oxford on Thursday 24th April, when I shall be headlining at Everything is Working Out Poetically. Tickets are available now.
If you enjoyed this week’s newsletter, I would be delighted if you would consider sharing it with a discerning friend, colleague or lover.
Well I truly sympathise with all the setbacks and dismaying attitudes that you have to deal with from people who should know better. May I congratulate you on your steadfast refusal to give way to the importunate boring people who wanted to seize your autograph no doubt to
present it to Mr. Putin as proof of their loyalty to his amazingly inspired political acumen. Keep on with your wonderfully staunch campaign to protect your privacy. It is obviously working as it would seem that fewer and fewer people are aware of of your esteemed name and your wonderful talents.
Cheers will try to make it