Paranoia Girl with supersonic hearing?
I had friends over today. It was excellent. We ate a pork roast (crusted with hazelnut and apricot), a potato bake (with extra bacon and cream, and home-grown tomatoes), and chocolate fondue – and we played Settlers of Katan.
On two separate occasions, while making light conversation, I paused suddenly and then excused myself even more apruptly with a mumbled excuse. Shortly afterward, I reappeared looking furtive, then continued to socialise as if nothing had happened. My reason? Food poisoning.
But I like to think it was a *little* like being an on-call superhero.
In other (arguably related) news, the whole idea of living as a hero and inspiring other heroes through my books (and through my epic failure to get quickly published) is definitely still ringing true for me. This is important, because it makes life worth living – rather than something I endure as a grudging favour to loved ones.
Yesterday I made it to my local church for the first time in about six months – I had stopped going because I was so angry at God I always ended up crying in the car (then spending the afternoon in a metaphorical and/or literal fetal position). Although I noticed myself being tetchier than usual, it was okay. Okay is a vast improvement.
I’m not BFFs with God like I used to be – but, to be fair, that’s probably a rational thing. Friends do everything in their power to help you to not be in pain, and God just doesn’t work like that. I feel more intrigued than angry now – God is the author, and I’m the character. What fascinating (and probably unpleasant, but oh well) thing is going to happen next?
(The answer is: more waiting. Two of my best-chance publishers are late to reply to two full-length books, which means either could call me with an offer any day. But they’ll probably wait about three months, then email me to say they’re not making an offer. My life story is a repetetive one, thus far.)
Pain is always easier when it means something. Mine means I end up with a better story. What more could I want?
Felicity Banks 
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