Today was the day of Leone Ross’s launch. She’s published a short story collection called Come Let Us Sing Anyway with Peepal Tree. I traveled up to London and for the first time in over twenty years I had nothing rooting me in the city – no work, no home. I got the bus from Victoria to the venue near Trafalgar Square and I felt like a tourist. Walks from Trafalgar Square – up Charing Cross Road or towards Embankment and over the bridge to the Southbank or past the National Gallery and into Leicester Square – they’re journeys I’ve done so many times. I’ve eaten in the Crypt under St Martin’s church or walked up Charing Cross Road to go to Silvermoon or further up to First Out – both of which are no longer there. The launch was fab: party-like atmosphere, loads of smiling faces, fantastic readers, chucks of writing that weren’t too long or too short, ex-students and ex-colleagues to feel proud of, one of them even gave me a stool to perch on. Of course it brings out the common writers’ syndrome: feeling like you’re not good enough. In fact, if you’re a writer and you don’t feel like you’re not good enough then you’re either 1) lacking in self-awareness 2) so super at one with the world that you need to start teaching other people how to do it 3) not really a writer. So at least if you have this kind of writers’ syndrome you can feel comforted by the fact that you’re a real writer – I guess. It goes a bit like this: I’m not good enough to: get published, win awards, get reviews, have loads of friends at a launch, write great short stories etc etc. Funny thing is, this particular syndrome molds itself to your current situation. I won’t be vain enough to state here that I’ve written great short stories, but they are at least good enough for them to get published. And I’ve done all of the other things on that list too, but the syndrome still persists. The thing is, you have to feel like you’re not good enough, shrug, and do it anyway.