First thing I saw was an email from the developmental editor in Melbourne apologising for the sloppy editing job that her contractor did. The tone of the email was very much one of just wanting to get everything sorted out - no finger-pointing or shifting blame, just wanting to cooperate - and having seen the manuscript, she could understand why I had to push the publishing date back a week. (Well... my manager was the one who pushed it back by a week. I'm not that familiar with scheduling in this field yet.) There were phone calls, and I remained - in voice, at least - collected and friendly. By the end of the day she was thanking me for all my help.

I am slowly coming to understand the process of publishing, and I have a few mosre slightly bigger books that I will be looking after later this year. This has been a valuable learning experience.

I'm not really sure how to approach the next work-related subject, as I can't think how to word it. It will probably sound like I'm trying to show off, when I'm not. My issue is that I am afraid of letting people down, but it is being magnified. The thing is, when I went for the job interview, I thought it went pretty well. I felt better than I ever have about an interview. I didn't let myself think I was guaranteed to get the job, because I'd been turned down enough times to know better, but I decided that no matter what, the interview had been pretty good. When I got the job, I was still surprised and thrilled.

I'd been there for perhaps two weeks when I was standing in the tea-room chatting with a colleague, who'd asked how I was faring in the role. I can't remember what I said, but I probably told her I was mostly OK. I must have expressed a bit of doubt because I remember she told me that our manager had come out of the interview raving about me. Best interviewee he'd ever encountered. That was really nice to hear, of course. I went home and told Daniel, beaming.

A couple of weeks after that, I can't even remember how it came up, but that same manager sat me down and proceeded to tell me the same thing. I felt like Neo in The Matrix - "you're The One..."

Seriously, I felt really weird about it. I mean, it's a low-end role, and whilst there's a heap to do, most of it isn't that hard. The hardest bit is the stuff they're giving me that's NOT in my job description - you know, the stuff where I actually have some real accountability, and decisions to make.

I felt weird that such a big deal had been made over me, because I worried about what they must be expecting from me. What had I said in the interview? Had I told them I could spin gold out of straw? Had I misrepresented myself? The more good things I heard, the more suspicious I got.

Today - having worked there for two months - I was talking to the guy in the mail room. We were talking about some movie that is apparently basd on an event that occurred in the company about three decades ago, and somehow that turned to a discussion of opportunity, and how the company does tend to 'give people a go'. All I said was, 'yeah, I'm really lucky to be here'. I really meant that. He responded with: 'oh, no, I heard you had a really impressive interview. I've heard good things about you.' Even HE knew about my 'magnificent interview'.

I just stared at him and put my hand over my mouth.

When I asked him who on Earth told him that, he raised an eyebrow and said, 'I hear a lot of things from a lot of people. You'd be surprised.'

I like our mailroom guy. I think he sees the place as a social experiment. He's been there for a long time.

Anyway, I know I am not putting this across very well, but it is scary that this kind of thing has spread. What do people expect of me? Do they hear these wonderful things, and then meet me and think: so THAT's her? She looks scared most of the time. Doesn't seem that great to me...

I don't how to express it, but the more people tell me how good they heard I was, the more I am afraid that I am just letting everybody down by being the real me. I DON'T have a cape or a gaudy lycra suit with a big 'S' on the front. I'm more like Tobey Maguire's dorky daytime self in Spiderman, only without the Spiderman bit.

It's kind of stupid, really, that the big shoes I have to fill are my own.

I'm sorry. I'll try to talk about ice cream or something tomorrow. This entry has been incredibly self-somethingorother.