I've decided that's what's wrong with me this week. I'm envious of my husband for having escaped into retirement, even though it was me who encouraged him to give up work; I'm envious of friends who have more money than me, more freedom, bigger houses, better clothes, whiter teeth; and I'm envious of writers who have achieved more success than me and at an earlier age. In short, I have a bad case of Poor Me Syndrome. This is, of course, ridiculous. I am healthy, I'm surrounded by loving family and friends, I have no mortgage and I earn a decent living doing things I enjoy. I should be ashamed of myself - and I am.
I've been looking back over my last two years' accounts; while my earnings have remained roughly the same, the amount of my own writing seems to have gone down, notwithstanding that I've published two books in the last 12 months. This presumably means I've been editing more of other people's work, which is what pays the bills, but it seems a retrograde step.Today, then, I've entered a couple of competitions. I also popped into Sainsbury's to buy the new issue of Om Yoga & Lifestyle magazine, where I was pleased to see that Stripped-back Yoga gets a mention on the books page. It's not all bad, then.
