I am the main character
Diary of an Author: 28 April - 4 May 2025
28 April:
Today I decided that out of all of my friends, I am the main character. On informing them both of this, I was surprised to learn that they each believed they were the main character, with the others in supporting roles. I smiled and suggested perhaps there was actually no main character among us. Since we all loved and supported each other, we were all in supporting roles. (This was, of course, nonsense. I am the main character.)
30 April:
Today I had a meeting with a publisher. It was going well until they said they enjoy my content. I was shocked and appalled. I cannot abide the word ‘content’. Such a trivial title is not befitting the work of a Serious Literary Author. My writing has gravity; it has depth. I refuse to engage with ‘content’. I do not watch YouTube videos or listen to podcasts. (I also refuse to read any book with a Contents page.) Unbelievably, the publisher chuckled at this, then said they could see why my newsletter appealed to my followers. I was shocked and appalled. I cannot abide the word ‘followers’. My work demands my readers’ Full Literary Attention. It cannot be blindly ‘followed’. This is why I always refer to my readers as ‘littérateurs’. Unbelievably, the publisher chuckled at this too, then said they would like to offer me a large advance sum to publish a book of my writing under their humour imprint. It was at this point that I realised they believed I was playing some sort of comedy character. I couldn’t believe it. I had never been more insulted in all my literary life. I stood up, announced that I was no longer content to work with them, and left the building.
2 May:
Earlier this week I decided to try talking like a hip-hop artist or DJ. Instead of doing or saying things, I now ‘dropped’ them. Anecdotes were not told; they dropped. My latest newsletter had not just been published; it had just dropped. Dinner was not served at seven; seven was when dinner dropped. I thought it sounded good, but today my girlfriend told me to drop it.
3 May:
This morning I travelled by plane. Shortly after taking my seat and fastening my seatbelt, I opened my can of Fanta Orange, only for its entire pressurised contents to erupt onto my crotch. The resulting stain on my trousers created the undeniable impression that I had relieved myself involuntarily. I placed the in-flight magazine over my lap, covering the stain.
A few minutes later, the flight attendant began walking down the aisle and checking that everybody’s seatbelt was fastened for take off. When she reached me, I assured her that my seatbelt was fastened under the magazine. She said she would need to see it. There’s no need, I said. I have fully tested it; it is well and truly fastened. She again said she would need to see it. I assured her that, being a frequent flyer, I was well versed in the art of seatbelt fastening. However, I added with a kind smile, I had overheard that it was the young boy in the seat behind mine’s first ever flight, so she might want to check his seatbelt extra carefully. The flight attendant again insisted on seeing my seatbelt. This was not an option. I could not be seen with a soiled crotch, even by an anonymous flight attendant. If word were to get out that I had wet myself on a plane, I risked being ostracised from Serious Literary Circles. The stain on my crotch could become a stain on my reputation.
I told her I was too engrossed in an article to move the magazine. She said she needed to see the seatbelt. I told her the magazine was too heavy to lift. She said that if I did not show her the seatbelt, I would not be allowed to fly. Look, I said, we both know the seatbelt is pointless and is hardly going to protect me in the event of a crash. Let’s both be sensible adults and forget about it. She said the seatbelt is to protect passengers in the event of turbulence. Realising I had no choice, I quickly lifted the magazine to show her the seatbelt. She gave me a kind smile, then said there was no need to be scared – flying is perfectly safe.
4 May:
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