Unless you’ve been living under a rock (or, you know, not on the internet), you’ll know that newsletters are de rigueur at the moment. Writers everywhere are cultivating small and intimate subscriber lists and sending out weekly (or fortnightly) insights into their life. Usually comprising of a personal essay or update, and then a list of interesting links from around the internet, newsletters are a space for writers to be more raw, more honest, and less polished than elsewhere on the internet. And I am utterly obsessed. I’m subscribed to a fair few newsletters, so today I thought I’d share with your 3 of my favourites that you absolutely should subscribe to immediately. Shelflife – Iain Broome Iain is an author and copywriter, and his newsletter, Shelflife, is perfect for other writers and readers and lovers of books. Every fortnight, Shelflife appears in my inbox, filled with links to all…

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About 2 years ago, I decided to switch to cruelty free beauty. I’m not a massive makeup fiend, so this journey has mostly consisted of replacing products as and when they run out. I think I’ve been doing pretty well. I’m a point now where my makeup bag (and my shower!) is totally cruelty free. Or at least it is if you define cruelty free the same way that I do. See the thing about ethical beauty is that nothing’s ever as easy as it should be. There are a lot of minefields to navigate such as parent companies, whether or not a company sells in China, and the presence (or lack of!) vegan ingredients. I’ll be honest, I’ve not got it cracked yet. I’m still incredibly muddled about which brands are and are not cruelty free, and I regularly get overwhelmed and wish I could just buy everything from…

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This body of mine has known hunger. It’s known shrieking hunger pangs and shrinking waste lines. Light heads and lighter stomachs; skipped meals and hidden food. This body of mine have starved. This body of mine has known greed. It’s known meals so large they’d make your eyes pop. It’s known eating and eating and eating until it’s fit to burst. It’s known the joy of impromptu ice creams and snack-filled evenings in front of the telly. This body of mine is full. This body of mine has known hatred. It’s known the pain of a blade, a slap, a word. It’s known loathing and shame; 4am crying over touching thighs and midday melting, covered up in the sun. This body of mine has known love. It’s known laughing until sides split, the warmth of an embrace after a long and tiring day. It’s known tenderness and desire and passion…

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I’ve been thinking a lot about identity lately. Partly because I’m 22 and it’s practically mandatory for newly-graduated 20-somethings to question their entire life purpose. Partly because I’ve been watching the latest series of America’s Next Top Model (AKA the greatest show on earth) and they keep talking about being ‘a brand, a boss, and a business’. And partly because my ultimate blogging babe Tara wrote about whether bloggers need to be a brand, and how hers has evolved over the years. For a while now, I’ve described myself first and foremost as a writer. Because I am. It’s literally what I get paid to do. Writing is my day job and side hustle and one and only hobby (apart from sobbing over Grey’s Anatomy and falling asleep watching Heartbeat on the sofa with my fiance.) But the problem with rooting your identity so firmly in what you do is…

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I’ve always been a digital girl. I grew up with computers and smartphones. By the time I was old enough to start writing more than my name, computers were the norm – to the point where I once got in trouble for writing by hand at school. It’s not that I don’t love a good notebook. On the contrary – give me an afternoon in Paperchase and I’m as happy as Larry (happier, in fact. Larry suffers from severe depression.) It’s that writing by hand has always seemed inconvenient. Not only can I type quicker than I could ever write (and, more importantly, type as quickly as my brain thinks), but carrying notebooks and pens everywhere is just irritating. For a start, I never remember to switch my notebooks from one bag to another, whereas I barely leave a room without my phone in my hand. About a month ago,…

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