The Mirror World of Melody Black by Gavin Extence Read Free Book Online Page B

honest and writing without self-censorship. Everyone self-censors, all the time.’
    I shrugged. ‘As I said, it felt liberating not to. Besides, I don’t think Miranda Frost self-censors, or not very much. So the format of the interview made a certain amount of sense.’
    â€˜And what about the follow-up? Does it make sense to go on offering up your life for public scrutiny?’
    â€˜You sound like Beck. Except he said that I was dramatizing my life.’
    â€˜How do you feel about that?’
    â€˜I think he’s being a bit unfair. I’m not dramatizing my life. I’m writing about something dramatic that occurred in my life. There’s a difference.’
    â€˜A subtle difference, some would argue.’
    â€˜It’s a big difference! I mean, with the Miranda Frost interview, it’s mostly just transcription. It’s objective journalism in its purest sense.’
    â€˜And the follow-up?’
    â€˜Well, no – that’s a personal account. It has to be subjective; that’s what makes it interesting. But that doesn’t mean I’m dramatizing. I mean, yes, there may be a dramatic element to the language and structure, but that’s because I wanted to capture the feeling of the experience. I wanted to be emotionally truthful.’
    Dr Barbara weighed this argument in several seconds of silence.
    I obviously hadn’t made myself entirely clear, so I tried again. ‘Put it this way: we all use one or two dramatic tricks when we’re talking about our lives. Say you were late for work – you missed the bus or got stuck in traffic or something. It’s very difficult to tell that story straight, without emphasizing certain details: the frustration, the watch-checking, the idiot in front of you who was on his mobile and didn’t realize that the lights had changed. You want to convey the experience as it felt at the time. It’s normal, and it’s not dramatizing as such. It’s just drawing out what’s inherently dramatic in the situation.’
    These were arguments I’d already rehearsed for when Beck read the follow-up; I was making him wait, too. Yet based on this trial run, I thought my explanation could do with some fine-tuning. Dr Barbara still looked sceptical.
    â€˜I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve read the article,’ she said.
    Outside, the sky was starting to darken. There had been only a little high cloud when I’d entered Dr Barbara’s office, fifty minutes ago, but now it was dim enough that she had to switch on both of the floor lamps. As she did, I thought idly about how the session had not quite met my expectations. True, I was used to Dr Barbara challenging my thinking, on most topics, but today there was something else. I’d been left feeling defensive and a little misunderstood, as if my words weren’t having the effect I intended for them. It was in this mindset that I decided to mention that my libido seemed to be coming back. I wanted to give her some unequivocal good news, proof that despite everything – despite the arguments with Beck and the anxiety dream and Simon’s corpse – I was feeling generally better. But even here, Dr Barbara’s reaction was guarded.
    â€˜I think that’s something else we need to keep an eye on,’ she told me.
    â€˜It’s a good thing,’ I assured her. ‘I mean, I actually want sex again. I’m enjoying it – really enjoying it – for the first time in months. I’ve had three orgasms in the past fortnight. I think it’s a pretty clear sign that my mood’s improving.’
    Dr Barbara frowned a bit as she settled herself back in her chair, but she didn’t blush. It was impossible to make Dr Barbara blush, as I’d discovered months ago. She knew, of course, that my sex drive was the first thing to go when I was getting depressed. I’d told her that before Christmas; it was