Why ARE cigarettes always the answer?

Yesterday, on a whim, I sent a letter to the CNJ. Totally unrelated to housing, it was a thought that somehow entered my inebriated mind as I slept at the weekend. The CNJ's been running a story about the shambolic state of Camden Tube Station. I rarely use the tube, why on earth would I have an opinion about that? Well with utter consternation, I've come to realise that Sue and I are not the same people. Myself and I are separate entities.

Here's the story. I'll start with my letter.

Whilst millions of pounds are being funnelled into the transport systems of the new Olympic Village, why can't cash be cobbled together to renovate and repair Camden tube station, one of the busiest and most popular destinations in the capital? It's a safety issue above anything else, as Frank Dobson states. Do people have to die first?

Send, forget about it, go to blog, post navel gazing vignettes of life as a stigmum.

Later I go back to my email account and I have a message, from the paper. I rattle off letters all the time (which they don't publish, which is fine). This is a first.

Thankyou for your letter, it states. For legal reasons, you must supply your full name and address for your letter to be printed. However, should you indicate so, we can withhold those details from publication. Thankyou.

Nothing wrong with that. That is normal procedure. So why did terror enter my soul and reach for one cigarette after another until it got to 5.30 and I realised I hadn't eaten a thing all day?

I am a chicken. I have a fridge magnet that reads "We can all FLY as HIGH as the DREAMS we DARE to LIVE, unless we are a chicken." (Edward Monkton)

Sue de Nim is Stigmum. Stigmum is brave. She divulges the secrets of her soul and she couldn't give a flying fairy cake. Pain, anger, fury, love; she doesn't stifle these. She rattles off articles and letters to the press, forgoing the usual formalities of pitch and payment enquiries and doesn't care whether they print it or not. Sue the Stigmum is a fully paid up member of the School of Doris.

Many people know that I am Sue. I sent my book to a handful of publishers using my name but written under hers. Using pseudonymns are an age old tradition. It is also why the book is called "The Book That Will Never Be Published." That is what I was told.

The CNJ doesn't know that I am Stigmum and it doesn't really matter if they do. They will print her name and keep mine on file. It's what all newspapers do.

But the CNJ has this link now. The CNJ also know that a girl beetled to their offices last week asking where the auctions were taking place so she could bid on a flat. It doesn't take Einstein.

My personality has become so entwined with hers, her personality so enmeshed with mine, that the result is utter confusion.

I could ignore the CNJ's email. It doesn't really matter. There's no desperation to see my name in print. No money is changing hands.

Stigmum is an altogether different creature. She wants to respond. She will not leave me alone until she does. She needs me you see, I am her conduit. She is nothing, she is no-one, without me. And I have to admit, I am rather fond of her.

Now breathe. Light another cigarette if you must.