The Awkward Girl's Guide to the Week | In Which August Slips Away Like a Bottle of Wine

"WTF AM I DOING?!" novels, and other tales from my week

Hi, it’s Amber with The Awkward Girl’s Guide to the Week, your weekly look at what I’ve been reading, watching, and otherwise getting up to. This post is free to all subscribers, but a paid subscription gives you access to more, exclusive content, allows me to continue writing for you each week, and keeps me out of the Victorian workhouse. You can also get up to 6 months free by recommending Forever Amber to your friends and family, so click here to find out how to do that. Thanks for supporting my work!

I’m writing this post in “real time” rather than putting it together in advance this week, because I’ve been hoping something would happen worth telling you about, but honestly, all I’ve got for you is this photo of the sky, which, to be totally honest, wasn’t even taken this week:

(And which also wasn’t really worth showing you, was it? This newsletter’s off to a great start, isn’t it? I should write a course or something…)

From this, you can probably tell that not a lot has happened. This is actually a good thing, though, because after the chaos of the school holidays (and the continuing chaos of the first two weeks of term), I really needed a week where not a lot happened, and all I had to think about was writing my book, and whether or not I could get away without washing my hair for one more day. (Answer: NO.)

As well as trying to crank out 2,000 words per day for the book, this week I’ve also spent quite a bit of time working on the blog, mostly going back through some of the older posts in a process I think of as “improve or remove”, and, wow, what a wild ride that’s been, as I’ve revisited magic moments like:

• The time I went for a walk in the country and ended up touching an electric fence.

• The time I got locked in my own bathroom, and realised the door had a face.

• The time I literally wrote 2,000 words about toilet brush holders.

• The time I started hearing voices in my bedroom and didn’t bother to update anyone on what it was, but I think it was something to do with my phone?

There was also a lot of stuff about things I’d bought and things I wanted to buy, and these are the things I’ve been ruthlessly getting rid of, because I can’t imagine anyone really cares about a pair of shoes I considered buying in 2009, but ultimately didn’t. I’ve kept all of the more personal stuff, though, because it would feel weird to get rid of it, and also because, let’s face it, I may never be that interesting again.

And, on that note, here’s what I’ve been reading, watching, and listening to this week…

READING

This week I started reading Confessions of a Forty-Something F##K Up, which, according to the cover, is “the funniest WTF AM I DOING?! novel of the year”.

(It’s also “The New Bridget Jones”, according to The Telegraph, which interests me because someone once referred to me in a review by saying “Sophie Kinsella has a successor”, and every time I quote that review in my marketing — which I do, obviously, because, let’s face it, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me — someone immediately pops up to say that Sophie Kinsella’s still ALIVE you know, and I’m being, like, REEAALLLLY disrespectful by describing myself as her “successor”. Which I never have; it was a reader who said that. Anyway, I wonder if Alexandra Potter runs into these people too, or if I get all the luck?)

Guys, I think I’ve found my genre. I don’t, in fact, write romantic comedies, like I’ve been telling people. I write “WTF AM I DOING?!” novels. And I read them too, obviously, because the book before this one was Really Good, Actually which is ALSO a “WTF AM I DOING?!” novel, and, hey, maybe I should spend a bit more time thinking about exactly why I relate so much to books about women whose lives are a complete mess?

(NARRATOR: “But Amber secretly knew why she liked those books…”)

Seriously, though, this has been quite the revelation to me, because the thing is — *whispers* — I don’t particularly like romance books. I started writing them because it was what I knew, thanks to all of those ghostwriting gigs I had to take on to pay the bills, but I’d be much happier writing essentially the same books, but without the “romance” part. So, just the, “WTF?” part, basically. This actually IS something I probably need to think a bit more about…

Anyway, back to the book I’m supposed to be talking about. I actually just started this last night, so I’m only a couple of chapters in, but I’m enjoying the subtle criticisms of influencer culture, and the pressure to at least seem to be having a “perfect” life, which main character Nell is currently railing against. Like Really Good, Actually, I'm having to keep reminding myself that this is fiction, not autobiography, because it reads very much like that — that’s not necessarily a bad thing, though, so I’ll do my best to read some more this week, and report back when I actually have something useful to say about it.¹

WATCHING

Our TV’s still broken. It’s been a Whole Thing.

So, the TV, as I said in last week’s newsletter, is still in warranty, which means we’re entitled to a replacement: yay! But Terry decided he didn’t WANT the replacement, because it’s obviously going to be exactly the same as the old model, which he’s convinced has some kind of design fault which will just make it break down, too. What HE wants is a cheaper but larger TV, so he’s been arguing with Sony about that all week, and, in the meantime, we’re using the ancient (but actually much more aesthetically pleasing) TV from the bedroom, which is propped up with piles of books, because the cabinet it’s sitting on wasn’t designed to hold that much weight.

All of which is to say that we’re still watching Benidorm.

Honestly, I kind of love it; which is strange, because it’s so not the kind of thing I usually watch. But I find it kind of comforting and undemanding, which is all I’m really good for right now. I also like that it’s about people on holiday, which is something I’ve considered writing about myself at some point. I feel like package holidays are something many of us have experienced, but which authors often ignore: characters in books always seem to holiday in Tuscan villas, or have other very “middle class” experiences — which is all well and good, but there’s just so much mileage in writing about the humble package holiday, and the people you see around the pool, I think. (Remind me to tell you about The Weird Sisters of Gran Canaria one day…)

Benidorm, I guess, does that in TV form, and I don’t know, maybe that’s why I like it. Or maybe it’s just that I really wish I was lying by a pool (Although not in Benidorn, admittedly), and this is the next best thing?

LISTENING

OK, so I was all set to show you ‘August’ by Taylor, because, obviously. But then last night Terry and I did this thing we sometimes do where we take it in turns to make each other watch some of favourite music videos, and he put on this, and then I cried, the end:

I know it’s not cool to like James Blunt (he’s hilarious on Twitter, though…), but he apparently wrote this when he thought his father was dying, but then his father somehow pulled through, and that’s him in the video. If you can watch this and not cry, then you are clearly in a much better emotional place than I am, and I salute you for that.

Until next week, folks,

1. I may never have something useful to say about it.