I decided to enrol in an economics degree partly because of masochism and partly because AI is rapidly stealing my job
Every day (most days) I get out of bed, sit at my laptop and write words. Usually, they’re not terrible. Sometimes they’re even great. I type and type, breaking only to watch cat TikToks and eat yoghurt from a tube.
In the beginning, every tiny acknowledgment felt like standing on a podium. An editor’s kind rejection of my pitch? A retweet from another writer? Publishing my work without paying me? Each milestone was life-changing. The mere suggestion that I might be anything less than awful at the thing I was trying to do felt like a glitter bomb had exploded in my belly.
