I am currently writing a memoir for which I’m actively looking for representation.

It’s a bittersweet but bitterly funny take on life as a former boarding school ugly duckling told through those who have left indellible marks on both my head and her heart. After my watershed heartbreak, I embarked on a twenty-year-long crusade to find true love, seeking a sense of belonging and romantic validation with friends, colleagues, strangers on websites, apps and even a dating blog. Someone once described me as a Terminal Singleton. Cruel but catchy. Catchy but correct. But why? Am I really that bad?

This memoir documents the difficulties faced by singletons looking for love in a big city, how the evolving dating landscape increases vulnerability to romantic fraudsters, and how we are more disposable than ever. It also digs deeper into the lasting effects of spending your formative years in the care of those who don’t love you.

This is a story I wish I could have read whenever that voice, the one that told me my looks, trauma, disability or personality made me unloveable, shouted the loudest. If only I could have known that I wasn’t alone and that I was worthy of love. Heck, how about the fact that good things do come to those who date. Eventually…

I spent two decades trying to break my curse, struggling to be good enough for everyone else. But all I really needed was to be good enough for just one person. Before I could find true love, I had to learn to love myself.  Reader: I did both.

So if you’re an agent or publisher looking for after a no-holds barred barrage of dating nightmares, soul excavations with a wry dusting of mirth on one woman’s quest to find love with *sotto voce* a happy ending, we should definitely talk.

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