Saturday, Oct. 07, 2006 - 4:47 p.m.

I am collating, collecting, reading, tweaking, structuring. Notebooks. Years of notebooks. Scribbles in pen and pencil from buses and trains and aeroplanes and beds and sofas and kitchen tables.

I wonder if I will include the one truth that no-one knows. Somehow the whole story needs to hang off that. Has been hanging off that in these little books for so very long.

Will that make me naked? It�s not the gaze of strangers or family or friends that niggles me, I know that most will assume the fiction of its provenance. What scares me, before the act is even committed (to paper, to the record), is what will it look like in the mirror?

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