superlatively rude

because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Do Not Change

superlatively rude

Darling Laura: some things for 2017. It’s that time again.

Go to bed early. Stretch every day. Food is fuel, first.

Wank. Stay soft. Be generous, but not a mug. Believe him when he tells you what he is.

Call home. Take the flight. Expect nothing, experience it all.

Miss people.

Light a candle, lose a day to reading, photograph things just because. Wear red lipstick and eat with your fingers and laugh, loudly and without apology.

Do not change.
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Ice Cream for Breakfast

laura-jane-williams-ice-cream-for-breakfast

And, just like that, my second book was born.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wasn’t looking for book two – not just yet. Getting published in June this year, with Becoming, seeing Tweets and Instagrams and four-and-five-star Amazon reviews on the THING I WROTE TO GET ME OUT OF THE SADDEST TIME IN MY LIFE was enough for me. Contributing to The Telegraph and RED and Stylist and The Metro, going viral writing about celibacy, too, on top of that, well. It felt like a coup. Then I became a columnist for Grazia and I thought: bloody hell. Colour me done, lads. This is what success feels like.


The thing is, is like I’ve documented, I was medicated for anxiety, and in therapy for depression, and had resolved not to write much at all, at least not for a little while, for the rest of 2016, maybe, as all of this unfolded. So “success” is a funny word. Outwardly – to the social media eye – it must’ve looked like I was living the clich├ęd dream. But, by the time the book actually came out I was in a very deep hole, only able to focus on the next five minutes, only able to achieve a single thing a day. I gained weight, cried a lot, pushed people away. I wouldn’t wish the emotional landscape of my 2016 on my very worst enemy. I sank. My lungs filled with sand. I kept sinking.

In April, saw an advert on GumTree for a part-time nanny for a local family and I applied for it. I just knew that being around kids would… help. I’ve worked with them on and off my whole life. I needed to go and play for a while. That's all I kept saying to myself: Laura, go play.

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Ask The Question


You want more love. To be in love. In love with your life.

You want more adventure. More chances, and with it the chutzpah to grab ’em with both hands, greedily and hungry, knowing you deserve to dive into every opportunity your belly aches for when nobody else is looking.

You want to understand how it feels to try – really, balls-to-the-wall, fuck-it-all
try. To trust yourself in succeeding beyond your wildest, most inventive daydreams. You can’t even comprehend what is waiting for you yet: that’s how daring your future is.

You want the security of self to demonstrate, without permission, without restraint, that your vulnerability is your biggest strength, and that your humanness is your greatest asset.

You want to know - mind, body, heart and soul - that who you are is already exactly perfect, and so sod anyone or anything standing in your way: you’ve got a destiny to Columbus the 
hell out of.

You want to be enough.

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How I Got a Column in a National Magazine

superlatively rude

The thing about burning out and nannying three kids pretty much full-time over the summer is that my inbox was blissfully silent. The other thing about burning out and nannying three kids pretty much full-time over the summer is that suddenly, my biggest focus for twelve hours a day was which way to slice the sandwiches – squares or triangles? – with nay a whisper of anxiety about books and careers and achievement. The final thing about burning out and nannying three kids pretty much full-time over the summer is that when you’re watching Harry Potter for the eighth time in two weeks, idle swiping on Bumble results in quite a few matches, and quite a few conversations, and quite a few dates.

I dated a lot this summer.

"...finding love is a lot like finding a job: you put your CV out there, you get as much interview practice as you can, and with the one you think is a match you go for it."

I’ve been dating a lot this year, actually, since moving back to London in February. Boys – men, because I’m 30 now, and surprisingly have come to like a grown-up in a suit – took a backseat when I was trying to get published, because I knew no fella could make me feel how seeing my name on the spine of a book would make me feel. Once that was done – BECOMING, and all of it’s many drafts - and I could breathe again, meeting a man became quite the focus for me. No online match went unmessaged, no offer of a date refused. I committed to my cause, because, I reasoned, finding love is a lot like finding a job: you put your CV out there, you get as much interview practice as you can, and with the one you think is a match you go for it.

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