Gratitude

I had my heart broken when I was 23. At least, I think I did; it was a long time ago now, and I feel like I got over getting dumped remarkably quickly for someone who was truly broken-hearted - I think it took, like three days?

There are a few possible reasons for this. Maybe I didn’t love my ex as much as I initially thought I did. Maybe I was especially resilient, given my background. Maybe, as a recent therapist I’ve seen opined, I avoid “big feelings” to protect myself, and therefore didn’t allow myself to feel the heartbreak for too long as a self-defence mechanism.

Or maybe it was the fact I bought myself an iPad Mini the day after he left, which essentially replaced his greatest function to me: sitting on the sofa and watching telly.

I actually don’t think it was any of those things. I think it was something else: not long after the break up, I started a gratitude journal.

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That journal doesn’t exist anymore.

It was a blog (oh yeah, I’ve been at this game since the early 2010s) that’s since closed, and I when I tried to search for it, it really does seem to have been wiped, but I can remember this particular project. I don’t remember where I got the idea, but I decided it would make me feel better to write letters of gratitude to the people I loved. One a day, until I got over my ex.

And my god, it worked. Like I said, three days - to the extent that when I later received a weaselly email from him, full of apologies for lying to me for two years, an email clearly designed to absolve him of the guilt he felt, I laughed. No longer relevant. So freeing!!

Anyway, the point of all this is that I find gratitude to be one of the most powerful weapons in my arsenal against The Sads, whenever they occur. Like, I don’t go around counting my blessings when I’m having a post-migraine Depressy Jessy day (on those days I binge-watch Preacher and cry quietly), but when I’m just a bit… low… I like to look back on all the things I’m grateful for. All the people I’m grateful for.

So, in aid of that for future reference… here’s the (SEVEN AND A HALF MINUTE LONG) speech I gave at my book launch. It’s full of gratitude.

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First of all, thank you so much to all of you for coming tonight - the idea of throwing a party no one comes to features in pretty much all of my recurring nightmares, so I am deeply grateful you’ve saved me from that. Also this is quite long, because I’ve got so many people to thank - so get comfy. Grab another drink if you want! 

So many people in this room have helped this book to come into the world in some way. My mother, for example, is prouder of me than anyone on the planet, except maybe Steve. Between the two of them I couldn’t ask for a stronger foundation for my fan club, thank you both for everything. The cakes are my mum’s doing, by the way, and honestly I’m not sure I’d have even submitted this book for the Chicken House prize if not for Steve’s unwavering faith in me. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

To my incredible agent Louise - you’re brilliant. I am so *lucky*. I am so *grateful* - I could not have asked for a more reassuring and helpful support during my debut process. To everyone at Chicken House, (especially Barry, as well as Ruth and Laura who are here tonight) and all the judges from the prize that got me here - thank you, Patrice and Ros - as well as the host of other people who helped make this real, you’ve made a very awkward girl’s dreams come true, and you’ve also all been a total dream to work with. So thanks for that!

For my day job colleagues, look - I appreciate I can be a loud and demanding presence in a team. I think on TikTok they call it a personality hire?? But I can’t actually thank you enough for being supportive and kind enough to let me be myself. I’ve had a LOT of jobs, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I finally finished this book while working with you.

To the writers in the room: thank god for all of you. My lovely coven - you’ve kept me from spiralling more times than I can count. Hayley, thank you for crying on my behalf when Barry called me when we were in Iceland. I am *not good* with feelings, and I am so glad you were there to feel them for me, and eat ice cream me with me in celebration at 10pm. 

To the 2024 debut group - I’m so grateful to have been part of this community this year. This industry can be isolating, and it’s been lovely to have you with me, and too be with you! Especially my fellow Northern Chickens, Amie and Sarah - I’m grateful not only that you made came all this way, but that you GET IT. 

There are also some people in this room that the book wouldn’t exist without, in large part because I’m not sure I’d be here without you. 

People like my Auntie Lindsey, who made sure I had somewhere to go every weekend when I was too young to strike out on my own but needed to get away. People like Stephie, and Lucy, who made sure I had community at university when I really needed it. And people like my Bad Rat.

Christina, you’ve been home to me since literally the day I was born. My soulmate, the first person to really *see* me. No one has ever been luckier with their cousins, and I am so grateful for all the times you’ve let me call you at stupid o’ clock in the morning because I was upset, or just so you could be a soundboard for a story idea.

There are also a couple of really important people who wanted to be here tonight but couldn’t. My exceptional friend Cal couldn’t be here because of his job, boo, but he has been basically a one-man marketing team for me in the last few months. He’s bought copies of this book for everyone he knows, and as someone with a pathological inability to understand why people even want to be my friend, that means a huge amount to me.

And then there’s Jade. Jade, the day I met you in a skate park under a Sainsbury’s in 2004 was and is easily the best day of my life. There is no one I would rather walk for 7 hours with from a house party in Church Fenton, even if Tadcaster does get in the way and you have to punch Pip in the face again. There is no one else I would trust to make me noodles on toast when I’m hammered at 3 in the morning after dancing underage in Ziggy’s (sorry mum). No one else I’d rather camp with in your back garden, no one I’d rather drink Bailey’s out of a shoe with.

You made me feel at home when I had nowhere, and for that reason there was no one else I could possibly dedicate this book to. Thank you for being my best friend, my wife, my favourite goth, and thank you for absolutely everything - except busting your calf muscle in boxercise, because that’s what’s he kept you from being here.

Finally I just want to say a big thanks to everyone else here too. To the readers and book bloggers who have kindly gone out of their way to be here and support an unknown author’s book, you make this industry happen, and I’m sure every writer in this room is just as grateful to you as I am. It’s incredibly weird, writing a book, it’s like taking out a piece of our heart and asking people to enjoy it. I do not like being vulnerable, and people like you make it feel like it might be okay to do that. You’re brilliant, you’re wonderful, and thank you.