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Amy Arora
December 1, 2020January 5, 2021

Barcelona

“Hola guapa.”

Layla looked up from her beer. A man with big blue eyes swayed slightly, leaning on the table for support. He looked perfectly at home in this dingy bar, which demanded ’20 persons maximum’ but was crowded full of foreign students and bemused locals.

“How are you? My heart, it is beating for you…like a potato.” Layla tried to figure out what that could possibly mean and hoped that he wouldn’t think she was rude if she laughed at him. He was probably too drunk to notice. “That is my cousin,” the man pointed at a burly Spaniard, whose hands were clenched around a beer like it was the Holy Grail. His greasy hair flopped into his eyes and he looked like he couldn’t choose between pushing it away and letting go of his beer. “Whole family very beautiful, no?” Layla snorted into her drink. She managed to disguise it as a cough.

“Que tal chico?” Maggie had strolled over. She spoke in rapid Spanish, gesticulating wildly. The man watched her, looking eager, confused and then disappointed. He stepped away from Layla and blew her a kiss as he walked away, shoulders slumped.

“What did you tell him?” Layla asked.

“That you were training to be a nun.” Maggie winked. Might as well be, Layla thought.

Maggie took Layla to a square in the heart of the city. The evening was balmy and Layla pulled self-consciously at her heavy tights. Chairs were arranged haphazardly around a large poplar tree. The crowd was a mix of people trying hard to be arty and people who were so arty they didn’t care. Layla loved the lilting sound of the Spanish poets as they competed for the attention and rapture of the audience. Enterprising Indians sold cans of beer and cigarettes at the edge of the crowd; convenience had a mark up. Layla’s father had lived in much the same way, not regularly, always searching for the next big thing. Layla had loved to fold the navy cotton as he unwound his long turban.

It was nearly midnight but this was early by Spanish standards. Layla and Maggie walked hand in hand towards a tiny restaurant for paella. The shuffling waiter looked distraught as they entered and threw his hands up in exasperation, as though the idea of people actually coming to the restaurant to eat was ridiculous.

“How do you feel?” Maggie asked. “Are you glad you came?” She grinned wickedly. Maggie knew Layla was glad she came. This place represented an escape for her. She had run here just as Maggie had a few years before, disappointed by failed aspirations, despairing parents and most of all by love.  The pain was less raw now, but Layla still wondered what part she would play in their great romance. Would she be the aside, the inconvenient pre-existing person who needed to be written out so that their love could flourish? Would their children ask about how they met? Would she even be remembered as part of that story? When Layla voiced these thoughts, Maggie laughed softly. “I love the way you think, Lay,” she’d say. “I’ve never known anyone who thinks like you. You’re such a,” she hesitated for the word and settled on “romantic.”

They met Maggie’s friends at the end of Las Ramblas. Women in sparkling pink cowboy hats with L plates attached to their chests hooted past. They stood drinking warm Estrellas and surveying the scene.

“My name is Aleksander.” A young man shook Layla’s hand formally. She said hello. “Are you English? I’ve been to England. Fortnum and Mason.” He smiled.

“Did you like it?” Layla asked.

“Yes.” He was succinct. “Now let me teach you some Swedish.”

Layla felt giddy by the time they reached the second bar. Aleksander steadied her, one hand on her elbow. Maggie walked in front with a French girl, whose first words had been “I ‘ate this city”. If anyone could make her love it, it would be Maggie. At the bar she ordered more Estrellas and shots for good measure. This was one way to forget a broken heart, Layla thought wryly. Get so drunk you forget who you are. The bar managed the impressive feat of seeming like it was underground, despite being on the first floor. The walls were brick and dripping with the liquid of nights gone by. Layla swayed away from Aleksander towards the toilets. A Spanish girl with a mane of dark curly hair stood hammering on the door of the ladies’, venting her  frustration on the weak slatted wood. She directed a whirlwind of unintelligible Spanish at Layla who quickly explained that she couldn’t understand.

“They are taking so long,” she gestured at the door. “I think they are…” She placed one finger on her nostril and inhaled sharply. The door banged open and two beautiful girls, wearing bandeau tops and hot pants, emerged, followed by a swaggering man with white powder around his nose. This night was a million miles from Layla’s previous Saturday and the Saturday before that, watching whichever generic talent show happened to be on TV and wondering if he was with her. This felt adult and somehow a bit less frightening.

As the sun came up, Layla, Maggie and Aleksander were on the beach. Layla had kicked off her shoes and the sand was sharp on her feet.

“Come on Lay, let’s go in!” Maggie was stripping down to her underwear. Aleksander had already kicked off his clothes and was running for the water. Layla stood for a moment, considering. The fear that she would never be able to forget it, or drop it, or move on, suddenly felt irrational and stupid. She looked along the beach, taking in the discarded pedalos, ready for the tourists who would swarm to the sea in the afternoon sun. The collapsed umbrellas at each beach café rippled in the early morning breeze. This was the place where she could be happy. This was her life without him now. Layla smiled, pulled off her dress and ran towards oblivion.

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One year older, and one year since I started this One year older, and one year since I started this account. 

A lot has changed in a year (🤰🏻) but one thing I am very proud of is that I have made space in my life to write, and it has brought me untold joy. 

Who knows? Maybe next year my novel will be in the shops...

#birthdays
Three months later, I remembered this Instagram ex Three months later, I remembered this Instagram existed.

Here's a wholesome photo dump.
1. Still editing and just got these excellent books as recommended by @amiemccracken and @urbanwritersretreat 
2. Baby fever has arrived.
3. My boyfriend made a robin house.
4. 31 weeks pregnant.
5. The Pyrénées, just because. 

As excited as I am about impending motherhood, I'm also feeling the pressure to get my book into a better state and send it off to agents before the truly sleepless nights begin. 

So, does anyone want to be a beta reader? I'll send you a printed copy.
I've written four out of five days this week and I I've written four out of five days this week and I'm counting that as a win. Three chapters edited and in better shape. I'll be searching for beta readers soon! 

In other news, bereft at the lack of Bonfire Night in France, we just did some sparklers in the garden. Five minutes of excitement! Now back to the sofa.
I don't know why but these Words of Wisdom from @l I don't know why but these Words of Wisdom from @londonwriterssalon made me cry. It's permission, isn't it? Permission to put something into the world, just because you can. 

Editing day 2 is going well. I'm working through Chapter Two, checking that it all makes sense. Some of the writing is great! Some of it is terrible. 

On we go.
Let's face it, 2020 was a weird old year. But one Let's face it, 2020 was a weird old year. But one of the biggest silver linings for me was the chance to finally take part in #nanowrimo 

I wrote a bonkers 50,000 words in one month and I learnt that writing a novel was not impossible. I also learnt that it's a good idea to have some vague kind of outline to avoid inevitable madness.

That novel is on my computer and will probably stay there forever, but taking part in the challenge gave me the confidence to write a second novel, titled Missingh People. This one might actually go somewhere. 

This year November is my editing month. The goal is a decent second draft by Christmas. I'll be checking in each day with updates on how I'm going. I'm so excited and extra grateful for that second trimester energy 🙌🏽
Hard relate. #somanybookssolittletime Hard relate.

#somanybookssolittletime
Where's the newsletter, you may be asking? Where i Where's the newsletter, you may be asking? Where is the latest installment of ADVENTURES & ADVICE? 

Truth be told, my creative brain has been taking a holiday lately. Here's hoping it will return in the coming weeks. Until then, I'd better get reading. 

#futurmaman
Every now and then, a book knocks you over. Maggie Every now and then, a book knocks you over. Maggie O'Farrell's extraordinary memoir definitely did. 

Highly recommended.
New writing alert ⚠️ It was such a pleasure New writing alert ⚠️ 

It was such a pleasure to write about my safari adventures in Tanzania for Vacations Magazine, published by Ensemble Travel. 

Go have a read at the link in my bio and let me know what you think!
It's been a while but I'm back! Thanks to the fol It's been a while but I'm back!

Thanks to the folks over at @londonwriterssalon for these words of wisdom.

Is it just me or does September feel like a time for even more New Year's resolutions?

This is mine: Get to a decent second draft of the novel by Christmas.

What are yours?
Moving this one to the grid because I love this sn Moving this one to the grid because I love this snazzy wool bow. 

The first editing step on my novel-writing course with @urbanwritersretreat is to re-read the book and write down a "reverse outline" of exactly what happens in each scene. 

This is a great plan, because there are whole sections that I have no memory of writing. Really. No memory at all.
What a well-worn, mature passport featuring a Dora What a well-worn, mature passport featuring a Dora the Explorer sticker. 

It's the right picture for the latest installment of ADVENTURES & ADVICE though, which is all about Adventures in... Airports ✈

You know, those places we all used to frequent before we were grounded by Covid.

Have a read at the link in my bio and if you like what you read, I'd love it if you would subscribe.
I don't think I really understood The Yellow Wallp I don't think I really understood The Yellow Wallpaper until recently. It is such a simple premise. I remember feeling underwhelmed when I read it at university, wondering what all the fuss was about. Now I think it should probably be compulsory reading for all women my age.

This morning, my student and I had a go at drawing the wallpaper as per the narrator's descriptions. The second pic is my effort. I like how creepy it is. 

What stories have you come back to and suddenly understood later in your life? (Don't even get me started on Streetcar.)
Manic face, mojito and celebrating getting my seco Manic face, mojito and celebrating getting my second ever piece commissioned from a pitch 🥂

This freelance writing stuff can mean lots of rejections/no replies, so it's good to celebrate the wins!
This photo does not do justice to the beauty of th This photo does not do justice to the beauty of this scene, which made me stop and stare. 

I've also now seen two snakes while running in France! Tanzania, eat your heart out 😂

The best bit about running around the countryside like a maniac in 28-degree heat is that now I feel completely justified to sit on the sofa with my book for the rest of the day. Actually who am I kidding?! I was definitely going to do that anyway.
Hiii everyone, school is out for the summer, which Hiii everyone, school is out for the summer, which means I've had more time to write!

Lots of it has been of the anonymous content writer variety, but here are a few bits of writerly news:

✍🏼 My latest guest blog post for @bedrocklearning is out now. It's all about emotional literacy. Go read it at the link in my bio.

✍🏼 The next installment of my newsletter, Adventures & Advice, is coming out tomorrow. If you haven't subscribed yet, why not? If the thought of more emails is too much, feel free to just have a read. The link is, you guessed it, in my bio 😉

✍🏼 I'm about 7000 words away from finishing the first draft of my novel, Missingh People. That's not a typo in the title. Can you guess what it's about?

Feel so lucky to have a chance to pursue this #writerlife 💓
I used to think affirmations were a bit silly. Now I used to think affirmations were a bit silly. Now I know better. The way that we talk to ourselves matters. 

An affirmation is a way of saying, "I'm okay, just as I am." And then growing from there.

I've been drawing a card out from this deck each morning and just keeping an eye on it all day. It's making a difference. 

Thank you @lesley_stonier @bryonyfrippillustration 

💓
Toulouse by night. Inspiration is everywhere! Toulouse by night. 

Inspiration is everywhere!
Ask Amy is available in my newsletter, Adventures Ask Amy is available in my newsletter, Adventures & Advice. Link in bio.

What's your take on short-term relationships? Are we "allowed" to feel sad when they end?
The latest installment of Adventures & Advice is o The latest installment of Adventures & Advice is out now. It's all about football! 

(I know, I know... graphic design is my hidden calling.)

Subscribers: It should be in your inbox 😊

If you are yet to subscribe, or you want to read without subscribing, the link is in my bio. 

Let me know what you think!
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