In case you were wondering, I was listening to a lot of Dave Matthews Band in 2001.

Fact: ten years ago when I was fifteen I wrote half a novel. It’s blatantly autobiographical, about girls trying to fit in and boys who look like pop stars and people having Big Conversations while standing outside on the street in the middle of the night.

I reread it just now in the middle of looking for something else in that way I have of getting distracted by (not so) shiny things and remembered so clearly how much I liked working on it, how good it felt to come home and finish my homework and write. How doing it felt like a hopeful thing and I thought: this is what I want to be when I grow up.

It is full of embarrassing, ham-handed descriptions and words like “ethereal”.

Other than that, it’s actually not so bad.