Dear Pre-Adult Self,

First off, get up out of your bed and read this letter!!! Here are some words of advice from your future.

Don’t go to university. It’s a total waste of time and you’d be better off travelling and working. If you still insist on going, do not, I repeat, do not study Medieval Literature – are you crazy? Who ever heard of a Medieval Literaturist? Firstly, it won’t give you a career, secondly, it will make people think you are unemployable and, thirdly, it will make people think you are insane. Study French – that way you can hang out on the banks of the Seine like the writers you admire, plus you can always translate your own books and plays into French. And if you do apply for Cambridge, make sure you’re charming to the school principal otherwise he’ll give you such a poor reference you won’t get in.

Go and help Mum with housework and cooking. Unfortunately, writing is not a career that will allow you to afford cleaners and cooks, and you won’t manage to snag a househusband either. Try to leave the nest with a bigger culinary repertoire than boiling an egg. 

Talking of eggs, get pregnant off the first decent guy you meet. Believe me, there is never a right time and if you don’t take the bull by the horn or the balls by the horn, you will just make excuses till the cows come home and never have children. Choose either Jon or Gary as they are kind. There is nothing more important in life than having family, though, right now, you take it for granted.

Party more, drink less. A hangover is God’s way of punishing you for being a greedy fucking eejit. Try to avoid getting in rounds with men – women can’t keep up with men in terms of drinking unless they’re borderline alcoholics. Being able to drink six pints, although impressive, is not an accomplishment on a par with, say, playing the piano.  

Dream less, do more. It’s true your imagination is one of your most important assets but save it for actually writing, rather than imagining what a great writer you’re going to be. After all, daydreaming isn’t a hobby you’ll ever be able to include on your CV.

Always remember you are the equal of any man or woman. Mum has always taught you that, but it’s useful to say it again. Things are still a bit weighed against women career-wise in 1984, but a slow-burning revolution is on its way. If people put you down, remember that it’s probably because they’ve been put down themselves and they’re just repeating the cycle. In the words of Beyoncé, ‘Twirl on them haters!’ (Beyoncé is the equivalent of Madonna)

Be prepared to overcome rejection. When you write, never have doubts and think to yourself, ‘Who’s going to publish this?’ Think to yourself, ‘Everyone with a brain is going to love reading this.’ There are a lot of superficial publishers out there who are only interested in celebrity-written bilge, so persevere and you’ll find the right publisher who knows quality when he/she sees it. Read less, write more.

Move quickly because life moves quickly. Don’t put things off till tomorrow and, if you do, do it early, so you have the rest of the day to yourself. Don’t waste energy on the small things. Save perfectionism for heaven – perfect can’t be achieved in an imperfect world. 

Don’t take up smoking. Yes, I know it looks cool but, as you already bite your fingernails, it’s not cool on you. Can you imagine Kathleen Turner smoking a fag with bitten fingernails? Not so sexy! Also, smoking’s going to make you feel terrible when you’re in your thirties – you can’t even climb up Cave Hill in Belfast without frequent rests, not to mention fag breaks.

Carpe diem! Carpe noctem! Burn, burn, burn as brightly as you can, as brightly as one of Jack Kerouac’s ‘fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars’. If you look up at the universe and feel small compared to its vastness, tell yourself that it can see you glow too, and that you’re not some dead star but a living, pulsating organism with the force of a rocket within you.

That’s about it but, whatever you do, don’t go back to bed. Make this day count, and the next, and the next…

With much love from your Mid-Menopausal Self