I was not impressed by the traffic on the M25 as we wound our way from Berkhamsted down to Bexhill last night.
Driving rain and a backlog of ‘please do this now or preferably yesterday’ emails from work did nothing to improve my mood.
Then, I arrived at my parent’s house for the first time in months, stepped into the bathroom for a wee I’d been holding in since Watford, and saw this:
What a pleasure that pee became, friends. That wee bit of wisdom was all I needed to relax!
I assume this sign is here atop the toilet in case of irritable bowels. Or blocked passages. Or in the event that the loo roll runs out mid-wipe. It’s just a little reminder by my mummy that if you focus on the positive, nothing bad can ever really befall you. Something better is always on its way. Even if it’s just my dad, inching in backwards politely with another roll of Andrex.
And this is why I’m revamping my newsletter here on Substack. Because when I’m looking for the positives, they often appear; just like I hope they will for you when you scan your emails for my promised twice-weekly letters. You might be having a sad moment, and then poop!
I mean POP.
There it is. A little nugget of happiness.
Why else am I here?
As a Harlequin and HarperCollins author, you may know me, Becky Wicks, from my many Mills and Boon romances, my memoirs on Dubai, Bali and South America. Or my YA series, which started with Before He Was Famous.
I’ve moved my lovely mailing list - and your ever-so-beautiful-eyes - from Mailchimp, along with my blogs from numerous long-abandoned sources, here, so that I may write to you twice a week. And so that you might see it.
Here’s what’s going to happen:
TUESDAYS: You’ll get a chatty, informal post about whatever’s inspired me to write something. Anything! Reviews, recommendations, what other inspirational signs my family might be placing upon their porcelain thrones…
FRIDAYS: Expect a post tailored to writers and/or writing. This could be a handy guide or a how-to in the world of publishing, an interview with another author, or even a cover reveal.
See you soon, and please, don’t tell my mum her toilet is on the Internet. You can tell everyone else, though.