This is the 13th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! I have one daughter, but I always wanted more children. I loved being pregnant, of feeling my baby shift and move and wriggle and squirm. I
Continue reading...Dear future husband, I have no idea who you are, what you do, what your name is or what you look like. I don’t know the circumstances of our meeting, who approached whom or what attracted us to each other. Was it a look, a smile, a word, or just plain instinct? I don’t know if we will even like each other at the start; will we be an instant chemical reaction or a slow burn? What I do know is that I need to apologise in advance for a few things. These things will explain why I am the
Continue reading...