Last night I was absolutely exhausted, and by way of response to my near-stupor wolfed down enough dinner for two in front of the TV, where I promptly fell asleep soon afterwards, napkin sadly still in place on my lap. The reason for my tiredness – mental, sadly, rather than physical – was the first face-to-face interview for my book, The Young Widow’s Book of Home Improvement, which is in “good bookstores everywhere” on Monday 7 April.
The interview lasted for more than one hour, which is a long time to talk about yourself – even for someone who’s written a memoir. (And writes a blog, come to think of it.) It’s tough to have to reflect on questions such as:
What’s your life like now? Is it hard adjusting to “normal†life by comparison? How did you cope? How did you keep going? Is there anything you would have done differently, looking back? Was it hard writing about what happened? How did I decide what to include and what to leave out? Have you dated anyone since John died? What would John think of the book?
I rang my mum to tell her about the interview. “I can imagine it’s hard to rave on about yourself,” she sympathised. “I would have done a better job of that. You should have got them to talk to me instead.”
