The regular Experience feature in The Guardian magazine always ends with the question, “Do you have an experience to share? Email Experience…” I sent them an email telling them that I was a middle-aged male anorexic, married with children, and were they interested. A few days later I got one of those standard (but sweetly tactful) little rejections, “Thank you for your email. I read it with interest but I’m afraid we won’t be able to use your story…” etc.
And I get that. It’s ok. Who’d want to listen to my piteous whining when they could be reading this week’s “I was hospitalised with a sex headache” (She got a headache while having sex and went to the doctor, but the doctor said she was fine.) or “I’m a full-time cat sitter” a couple of weeks ago. (He feeds people’s cats for them.) It’s exciting stuff.
The thing is, these articles are genuinely more entertaining and interesting than mine would be. There’s a lightness to them that mine would lack. People with problems are tedious.