I was 7 when I first started walking myself to school. My mum was a full time nurse at Bristol’s Children’s Hospital and had to commute in the early hours of the morning, dropping my brother off at secondary school along the way, leaving me to wake myself up using my hot pink Barbie alarm clock. I usually packed my bag and laid out my uniform the night before, but I usually forgot something each day; my lunchbox, my homework, my house keys, my P.E. kit (totally wasn’t intenti

In 2024, I was in the biggest reading slump of my life. And I was depressed. As an avid lover of books and storytelling, these two struggles went hand in hand. So, when I decided to drop out of university and take a gap year at home, I was determined to get back into what I loved most: reading. My new year resolutions for 2025 were... simple but a lot : pass my driving test, buy my own car, loose 3 stone, go back to university, and read 50 books. For the first time in my li

My luck with friendships ran out the second I learnt what “best friend of the day” truly meant. Remember everyone getting picked to join a team during P.E. until it’s always you and that one boy who always peed on the P.E. equipment left as a last resort? It’s like that feeling you’d get in the pit of your stomach, hoping your classmates will find you more useful for rounders than the boy with a weak bladder, but amplified tenfold. Because nobody wants to be the last choice.

In my previous post, I spoke briefly of my first failure of a blog, and it got me thinking… I owe a lot to Zoe Sugg, or should I say, my first book owes its entire plot to Girl Online. I hate to admit it, but when I tell people I've been writing stories since I was a child, you can guarantee none of it was original. In fact, from age thirteen to sixteen, I wrote 6 books with 300+ pages solely based on the original plot of CW's Arrow, starring Stephen Amell. My main character

I was twelve years old when I started my first ever blog, ‘Cup of Joe(ly)’. I had just read Zoe Sugg’s Girl Online and envisioned the next two weeks of my life full of handsome band members in flannel shirts and ripped jeans, all falling swiftly in love with me and my naturally beach wavy blonde hair always in an effortlessly assembled bun atop my head. Not to mention all the witty comebacks I had at the ready for my primary school bully when I’d roll up in a matt black limo