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Reading time: 2.08 507 words Hey Reader, The Winter Olympics has me absolutely gripped. I’m shrieking, “Did you SEE that twizzle?” at Joe during the figure skating. And, “Jeepers how are they not dead!?” at the luge. And the skeleton. And the high-speed downhill skiing shenanigans. I’ve been fully obsessed with the ice dancing and figure skating (always am because it’s in the same universe as aerial arts) and one of my favourite things is to watch people who are full-on experts at what they do, doing their thing. I’m in awe of all of them. But the ones that really move me to tears are often not the winners. Sports like ice skating and gymnastics often have big old sticks up their butts and struggle to accommodate people doing something a little bit different. Anything unserious is often an outright no. Adam Siao Him Fa from France had a stunning, quirky routine that made me cry. Lilah and Lewis from the UK weren’t technically the best but they were filled with joy from start to finish and it shone from every moment of their dances (an homage to the Spice Girls and a Scottish extravaganza starting with The Proclaimers’ 500 Miles which is my singing in the shower song). Go back to 1998 and we have Surya Bonaly, one of the few Black figure skaters, from France, who didn’t fit the “look” of ice skating and whose big FCK YOU was an illegal, perfectly executed, one-skate backflip. There are always a few people who stand out. They stand out because they refuse to conform to the exact rules and boundaries set out by those who decide what’s hot and what’s not, what’s acceptable and what’s a travesty. Everyone else is beautiful, talented, polished, safe… and sometimes forgettable. As in ice-skating, so in business. Everyone on social media looks the same. The same filters, the same gestures and mannerisms, the same talking points, the same sentence constructions. There’s a flattening of language online and it’s harming your identity. It starts with outsourcing writing to AI, but it ripples beyond that, too. Because we look at other writings and we see engagement and we think that is the way to do it. So that AI slop seeps into our voices, too. I miss the real you. Your life is unpolished. Why not let your voice be unpolished, too? It’s hard to do that online, but in a book? There’s space for your ideas to breathe and your voice to grow. I have 3 spots left in February for those who are ready to stop circling and actually start their book. If that’s you, I’d love to help. We’ll get on Zoom for 90 minutes and nail down your big idea, your reader journey, and your structure. You’ll leave knowing exactly what to write and how. Then we check in a month later to make sure you haven’t wandered off into the woods. It's £1,450 + VAT and I have a 3 slots available in February. Hit reply if you want one. TTFN, Vicky 🫡 p.s. Know someone who might enjoy this email? Please forward it to them and get them to sign up here.
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Reading time: 1.27 342 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, A few weeks ago, I had a metaphorical punch in the chops. Nothing earth-shattering, just a small thing. But it showed me two things in glorious technicolour: If I put out an apologetic vibe and keep shrinking myself, I will get sidelined and treated as lesser than I am because I’m “no trouble.” What I do for and with my clients isn’t just cool, it’s crucial. It’s important. It’s what I’m here for. And I am very, very...
Reading time: 5.01 1,192 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, I’m in Oxford right now, the city of dreaming spires, where so many books have been created… mostly by men. Today, though, I’m talking to a woman whose book is coming out in May. Samantha Harman is hosting The Gathering and she’s making the topic of her book, Just Get Dressed, the star of the show. She and I are taking to the stage to talk about it and it got me thinking about the tears I’ve shed this week. Some of...
Reading time: 2.10 512 words Read this email in your browser. Hey Reader, Sitting on the sofa, heaving great sobs from my chest, I am ugly-crying as I watch something on screen that I’ve never seen before. Season 1, episode 1, of The Good Doctor. We’re only a few minutes in and the main character is in an airport. He wrings his hands compulsively as everything around him pushes in at him: sounds, lights, smells, peoplepeoplepeople and there’s somewhere he has to be. The cacophony is...