At the very end of October, I was very excited to discover what I think is my first ever citation in someone else’s book.  My own book, Singing the News, didn’t come out in time to make the note, so the reference is to my PhD thesis, but I’m still feeling very proud of myself.  Not least because the book in question is Diarmaid MacCulloch’s Thomas Cromwell: A Life.  I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t a flicker of excitement.  Delighted squealing might be rather more honest.

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I appreciate that this might sound a bit like showing off, but it’s actually about more than my ego (yes, honestly).  The fact is that, sitting at home writing in my office, and especially while I haven’t got a permanent job and colleagues, it’s difficult to remember that other people might actually be interested in what I write.  I tend to think of it like I’m in some sort of bubble, writing just for me…

But apparently not:

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