This week I queue in New York*

(You might want to play this while you read!)

My Friday went like this: ensconced in a blunt, jet-lagged haze I wound my way through Manhattan’s Central Park to the Museum of Modern Art on 53^rd. , whereupon I queued for five hours to sit opposite performance artist Marina Abramović. And stare at her.

This Friday marked Abramović’s 72^nd full day of sitting and staring at strangers, one at a time, not moving even to eat or wee. In total, 1500 New Yorkers have queued – most of them from 4am – for this peculiar experience. Including, yes, Bjork. Marina is the one in white, below. Stacks of people cried, by the way. It was a big, beautiful experience to be in the room.

While I was in New York last week, I hooked up with my Year 8 English teacher Mrs Cochrane. Fun-weird. We connected via a few degrees of separation on Facebook, and via the same network, she worked out I was coming to New York (which is where she’s now based) and so we had dinner at Bread in Soho, which is one of my favourite joints, despite the preponderance of bread (which I can’t eat). So I ate braised beef with polenta.

And, OK, after dinner we might’ve popped in to Rice to Riches across the road. You been? Crikey, what an experience. Rice. With riches, such as nuts and chocolate and coconut cream and lots of chunky, sugary bits and…well, dieting is optional.

The funny thing about the night was that it felt like I was catching up with an old mate. Even though I was 14 when we last sat opposite in a classroom. And she was the teacher.

I’ve just started a book. As in, writing one. I’m not quite sure how this came about. But as with most thing in my life, they’ve happened while I’ve been doing other things (I’d never even read Cosmopolitan before I became editor of it). Anyway, contracts are signed. I’m off.

How do you start writing a book? If you’re not writing a book, you might ask, how do you start a big project with multiple layers of complexity and emotion involved? I’ve been seeking an answer for a few months. There’s some common thinking out there, in case you’re wondering. Principally: don’t worrying about the perfect start; just… starting. Vomit forth ideas. Let them unfurl in a mess. Be messy with it. Be loose. Use butchers paper. Get fired up. Creative. No holds barred. Have no structure, no semblance of order.

But don’t edit.