Hi, I'm Sophie, an aspiring eccentric.
I love books. From an early age, I was always defined as: “The girl with her head in a book." Books taught me how to write. I also love music — my Spotify shuffle ranges from Joni Mitchell to Death Grips, and I think that people who can take music or leave it are insane. I learned to swim underwater before I could propel myself above it; the part of me with a hopeless tendency to romanticise everything insists that this means something. I’m still figuring out what.
Potatoes in every form are my answer to most of life's predicaments, and I once ate sausage and mash for tea four times in a row until my mum begged me to stop. Give me any sort of romance whisked up in Nora Ephron’s literary kitchen and you’ve got yourself a date — preferably underscored by Harry Connick Jr., obviously.
I did a politics degree because my parents wouldn't dream of allowing me to pursue the arts, and I spent six years hurriedly jotting sentences and stanzas on the back of receipts to avoid various retail jobs squashing my soul completely. Now, I'm a copywriter who's paid to write words! But I still fear that one day I’ll rust over like a bike long forgotten in the rain and never write again.
Seriously though, commission me for compelling words that inspire human connection (I warned you about the romanticism). Other things that I'm afraid of include: the dark, falling from great heights, and hand-dryers in public bathrooms.
My similarities to George Costanza (a helpful benchmark to measure how unbearable you are) hopefully begin and end with a propensity for expressing myself through outfits. I've never been the type of person who dons “jeans and a T-shirt” to nip to the shop, and I probably never will be — unless it’s a Breton striped T-shirt and my Levi’s.
Writing has always been something that has come naturally to me. For a long time, I gave up on my dream of becoming a writer because I grew up and became so self-aware that I was too afraid to publish anything I'd written. Anyway, here I am.