“I feel like a clapped-out old car sponge that’s losing its fluff.”

Have you got a favourite literary character?  I have.  It’s Rita Simcock from A Bit of a Do, a light-hearted comedy novel from the 1980s.

(Gwen Taylor played her in the TV series, hence the photo).

A Bit of a Do was my favourite book when I was 12, and I loved Rita Simcock from the moment I met her in its pages.  She starts out as a middle-aged, paranoid, unappreciated wife and mother with zero confidence.  Then her dad dies and her perennially unfaithful husband finally leaves her for another woman.  Instead of crumbling to bits, as everyone expects her to, Rita blossoms.

As a 12-year-old wallflower, I thought Rita was absolutely fantastic.  Over 30 years later, I still do.  Her blossoming is so understated, yet so courageous, that it always makes me well up.  A Bit of a Do is a comedy novel, but it’s also painful and heartrending and very, very human.

Anyway, this post isn’t really about favourite literary characters, or even favourite novels.  I got sidetracked talking about Rita Simcock herself, when I really just wanted to use a line she says in the book.  Namely, “I feel like a clapped-out old car sponge that’s losing its fluff.”

I wanted to use that line to describe how I’ve been feeling, now we’re at the end of a pretty hectic year.

I only knew I was feeling like that when my creative coach, J, started throwing different marketing scenarios at me during our most recent session.  “You need to make people want to read you,” she said, but I couldn’t think of a ‘right’-feeling way to do it.  I wanted to write a newsletter to let people know what I’ve been up to, but even that felt wrong… like I’d be imposing myself on their busy inboxes (which, let’s face it, I would be!)

“How about choosing one social media platform and advertising on that?” J asked.  That was a stubborn no.  Then, why didn’t I go into local bookshops and offer to do readings, or sign up to arty events and go networking?  That was a stubborn no as well.  Then, why not try and collaborate with like-minded people?  Go on someone’s podcast or write some guest articles.

(I’ll let you guess what the answer was).

“Do you not want to do anything for a while and just… be?” asked J, and I found myself welling up.  “Yes, I think so,” I half-whispered.  “I feel like a clapped-out old car sponge that’s losing its fluff.”

The line was lost on J, as it is on most people, but it’s a good sum-up.

After a year of hen party planning and wedding planning and actual hen party and actual wedding and novel finishing and work and desperately scrabbling around for ways to matter, I think I’m done.

I like writing here, so I’ll continue, but I’m probably not going to tell anyone about it for a while.  To be honest I’m not sure what I can really say about myself as a writer, yet.  Just that I am one, and it’s all I’ve ever been, and all I ever will be.

I don’t think that’s enough for people to want to read me, though.  At least, not yet.