Is January Divorce Month… or just “New Year, New Me (and New Solicitor)” Month? Every January, the same headline pops up like a leftover mince pie you swore you’d finished: “It's Divorce Month” “Divorce Day is here” “Couples are splitting faster than a Quality Street tin” And look, I understand why it sticks. January is when the decorations come down, the bank account enters its Victorian orphan era, and you suddenly have the emotional bandwidth to notice that you and your sp

If you’ve been following my “turn the book into a stage play” saga, you’ll know I’ve been properly in it. The late-night notes. The sudden bursts of confidence.The slightly unhinged voice memos to myself that start with “OK HEAR ME OUT…” and end with “why am I like this?” And for a while, it was genuinely happening. I was writing, sharing drafts, getting that familiar pit-of-the-stomach feeling (the same one I had when I first shared the book), and letting myself believe: thi

Tomorrow I’m meeting a mum pal and she just happens to be a most brilliant performer and genuinely lovely human to boot. You know when life casually drops someone into your path like, “Here. This one might be a good friend.”  That’s what this feels like. We met through the usual mum-life route. And somewhere between oooh you're the mum of that one, mine talks about yours at home, it came out that she performs. And then it came out that I’m turning my book into a stage play. A

There’s something about the start of a new year that makes you feel like you should have everything figured out. Like you should be up at dawn with a colour coded planner, a green juice, and a calm mind that never spirals. Like you should be making huge goals and declaring them confidently to the universe. In reality, I’m stepping into 2026 in a much more normal way. A bit tired. A bit reflective. Grateful for the quiet moments after Christmas, and still slightly surprised by

There are certain thoughts that should really come with a warning label. Maybe I will just cut my own fringe. I bet I could run a half marathon with no training. And now for me, maybe I could turn my book into a play. When I first wrote about this little idea, I was still in the early stage of optimism. You know the one. Where your brain thinks this will be a cute side project and not something that takes over your entire search history and slowly becomes your full personalit

I didn’t think my nervous system would ever recover from publishing a book. The first few days were all adrenaline and refreshing pages like an absolute gremlin. Then Christmas happened. Wrapping paper, wine, family logistics, the annual shall we pretend this year won’t be chaotic optimism. I assumed everything book related would go a bit quiet. Except it didn’t. Somewhere in the middle of the festive madness, I got a message that basically stopped me in my tracks. My book mi

There are certain thoughts that should really come with a warning label. “Maybe I will just cut my own fringe.” “I bet I could run a half marathon with no training.” And now, for me“Maybe I could turn my book into a play.” At first it was just a throwaway idea. A few people messaged after reading Swipe Right, Keep Left  saying things like “I could see this on stage” “This feels like a one woman show” I filed those under “lovely compliment, absolutely ridiculous idea” and carr

There are moments people imagine when they think about being an author. Glamorous launches. Clever interviews. Queues of readers waiting with books in their hands. My first request for an autograph did not look like that. It was my friend, standing in my kitchen, holding a fresh copy of Swipe Right, Keep Left that still smelled of new paper. They smiled and said, very simply “Will you sign it for me” For a second I thought they were joking. Then I realised they were completel

Somewhere between arguing with AI over cover art and tinkering with chapters, I realised writing the book was only half the job. I built a website, created a free Rule Book, chose a bonus chapter and finally hit “publish” on Kindle. Heart on sleeve, stomach in knots, rollercoaster engaged.

“Mum, Dad… I’ve written a book about my love life.” Telling my parents about Swipe Right, Keep Left was one thing. Handing it to them to read—knowing there are chapters they’ll howl at and some they might hate—was another. Writing honestly hits different when family is turning the pages.

Split or layered image of the same book cover character changing slightly: different outfits, slightly different hair/face each time, like a ‘before/after/after’ grid. Around her, little icons of sliders, magic wand, and “AI” symbols to hint at tech, not overwhelm it.

You’d think getting a book 90% done would feel triumphant. In reality, it felt like, “Oh no… people might actually read this.” Hitting send on my messy, honest dating-and-divorce manuscript to a small group of friends was the scariest bit so far—and their feedback changed everything.