I'm Not 'Bad' With Money - I'm Scared Of It

Here's what happens when you don't check your bank balance for three years

Photo by Fabian Blank on Unsplash

Hello hello! Happy Monday! Here’s to a joyful beginning of the week!

On Friday, I had a gorgeous conversation with Fearne Cotton at Waterstones - we talked about her first novel, Scripted, and we discussed life, the universe and everything, because why bother with small talk when you can go straight to Big Talk? On Saturday, I spent the day celebrating books and reading with The Queen’s Reading Room, and I met some of the most exciting writers and speakers in the world - from the actor Gloria Obianyo to the author Harlan Coben - as well as Helena Bonham Carter, Gyles Brandreth and Miriam Margolyes! I’m prepping for Pity Party, coming next month - which means that I’m writing, planning events, liaising with my publishers, bookshops, journalists and broadcasters - and I’m finishing the final version of my next next book, Read Yourself Happy, which is out in February - but we’re already starting the conversations about exactly what we’ll do when it comes out!

Loves, I’m flagging - so this week, I’m sharing a vintage essay, published by The Pool in 2018. It’s about my emotional relationship with money, and why we all know all the facts, but no-one ever really talks about the feelings it brings up.

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Now, for some thoughts about money.

I’m Not Bad With Money - I’m Scared Of It

Twenty first century women are supposed to be empowered and confident about dealing with financial matters. I’ve heard, so many times, that we’re not meant to believe in the rhetoric that women are naturally ‘bad’ at Maths, or money management. We should be taking control, educating ourselves, learning and growing like a portfolio of stock. Knowledge, I’ve been told, is key. Financial advice is everywhere, and it’s time for me to wise up and take some.

Ever since I became a freelance writer, my sense of money became even more complicated and conflated with my sense of self. If I have cash, it’s because I’m working lots and doing well. If I don’t, it doesn’t just mean I can’t go out for dinner. In my head, it’s proof of my failure as a human being.

I am a reasonably competent mathematician. I check my bank balance every day. I have three different savings accounts – two of these are investment accounts, because I’ve read that women are too cautious with their money, and bigger risks will lead to better returns. I haven’t been in my overdraft since 2013. I know what APR means and my bills get paid on time. I have a credit card, and I don’t owe any money on it – but I know it’s useful to have one and use it cautiously in order to maintain your credit score. Mine is, according to Experian, Excellent. I know I sound utterly insufferable. My finances have not always been this straightforward. Between 2012 and, er, birth, my money situation was a mess.

In my head, it still is. I only check my bank balance almost obsessively now, because there was a three year period when I couldn’t look at all. Practically, I think I’m handling my money as well as anyone in my position could be expected to. Emotionally, I am convinced that I am not in control, that everything I’ve worked so hard to fix could break at any moment, and that I’m always about a fortnight away from having to live in a tent on the beach.