Today, the subject of my post is going to be insecurity.

How good is insecurity? Well, to be honest it’s kind of crap. But it’s kind of crap in a good way, at least when you’re a writer. Or maybe I should rephrase that. It’s kind of good in a crap way.

Okay, give me a few minutes and I’ll see if I can sort it out.

As a writer, I like to think I’m supple and agile when it comes to storylines. I like to think I can twist and turn a plot in all sorts of directions. I like to think I can write stories that are twinkle-toed, able to make sudden changes of direction in an instant.

If only the rest of me displayed the same suppleness and agility.

I think I’ve mentioned before over the course of this blog how one of my great loves is the game of cricket. I’ve been a big fan of the game since I was taken to test matches in the mid seventies. These were definitely glory days for the game. The Australian team included names like Lillee, Thomson, Walters and the Chappell brothers. Exciting times to be oriented into a sport.

Here’s an interesting fact about me that you may never have known (though if you’ve read this blog carefully for a while, you may have guessed it). I’m kind of messed up. Kind of hung up and neurotic.

I stress about things. I overthink. I spend hours awake at night worrying about thing I have absolutely no control about.

I follow in a proud family tradition. I work at a university. My father before me also worked at a university. Though that’s where the similarities end. He had a proper university job – the one that requires you to have the letters Dr in front of your name. Me, I’m more of a university dilettante.

Anyway, as an official Dr type university person, one of the things my dad regularly had to do was go overseas to attend conferences, often to quite interesting locations. And while we’d miss him when he was away, it was still kind of cool because when he got back he’d have all sorts of gifts for us.