I wanted to leave London ever since I got there at 26. Yep, I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. For years I tried to fit in – to this new city and to this alien culture of London publishing – but it never felt like home. Mouldy basement flats, hour-long commutes, networking events where I felt like I’d missed the memo on how to communicate. Though, if I’m really honest, the main issue was that I didn’t find my people. Or rather I did, but they lived hours and three tube changes away. Continue reading at 'The Bookseller'
[ The Bookseller | 2021-04-01 04:22:09 UTC ]