Matt Haig

Dear books,

I love you. I really love you.

You have not only changed my life but have also saved it. You understand me better than anyone else in the world. And you are always there for me, to give me comfort or wisdom or just to have a laugh. We’ve had such good times, me and you. All those holidays together, all those sleepless nights. Truly, you have made my life complete. You are my shelter in the storm of life. I owe you everything.

I love you so much. I love the way you feel, I love the way you smell, I love the way you look. But recently I have seen you start to change. You look worried. And I don’t like it when my closest ally in this world is worried. You wonder what the future holds for you. You have started wearing new outfits – Kindles or something? – and you seem to be hanging around celebrities to show you are still important. Sometimes you present the worst and most brash side of yourself to stay being popular, and you might risk losing respect. You worry that TV and cinema and the internet are getting more attention than you and you are trying to copy them. But listen, don’t worry. You are perfect. You are absolutely pure. Every TV show or film starts as words on a page. Words are the essence of culture, and you are pure essence.

Just be proud to be yourself.

I love you whatever. It is unconditional, this love I have for you. And I am here to say it is all right. You were here long before me, and you will be here long after me. Every story needs a home and you are the best home I can think of. You will be fine.

Don’t go changing.

Stay golden.

Love,

Matt

x

In last week’s blog I pretty much reduced everything that happened to me in my formative years to an 800 word blog.

This week is a kind of sequel. And one in which I talk about my other life, my life since 2003, the year I got a publishing deal, and everything I have learnt since. Okay, deep breath, look straight ahead, here goes.
– Choose battles wisely.
– Choose agents even more wisely.
– Literary fiction is a genre that pretends it is not a genre.
– Editors are essential.
– If an editor is talking about culling their list in the first meeting, this is a bad sign. (more…)

Apparently, more anti-depressants are prescribed in January than any other month. So I thought I’d write a little bit about words and mental health. In September 1999, in my early twenties, I suffered a breakdown.

After a few years of seriously heavy living, and various other life stresses, I became very ill indeed. I descended into a permanent state of dark anxiety and was diagnosed with panic disorder.

The only way I know how to describe panic disorder is as a kind of high speed depression. I would close my eyes and see literal demons. I could hardly leave the house without my girlfriend standing by my side. I was overwhelmed by something I did not understand – my own brain. For about three years my mind never came to a comma let alone a full stop. (more…)

I tell you what annoys me. What annoys me is when people imply I have an easy job. Doesn’t that annoy everyone? I don’t know. But I bet brain surgeons get annoyed at parties when people say to them ‘oh, you are so lucky, I’d love to do some minimally invasive endoscopic surgery if only I had the time.’

Or doesn’t that happen?

Anyway, this idea that writers have it easy annoys me for two reasons. First, writing is not stamp-collecting. It is not some nice little hobby you do to wile away the hours. Writing – proper writing – is hard. It is exhausting. It eats you as it feeds you. It is the greatest joy sometimes, but like all the greatest joys it is hard-won. It is no winning lottery ticket. (more…)

Celebrate the launch of my new book ‘The Humans’