From Skye, emails and text to heartbreak: Author Tara Eglington captures it all in her new book
Author Tara Eglington has shared a glimpse into new book The Long Distance Playlist. It’s about the blossoming friendship between two former friends.
Books & Magazines
Don't miss out on the headlines from Books & Magazines. Followed categories will be added to My News.
Tara Eglington has written the teenage pen-pal love story for the 21st century. Taylor and Isolde’s narrative is told through instant messenger, Skype, emails, texts and heartbreak-themed Spotify playlists. It’s a classic tale of best friends falling out, then falling in love. And it all starts with an email.
THE LONG DISTANCE PLAYLIST
From: taylor_hellemann@gmail.com
To: IsoldeByrne@hotmail.com
Sent: Wednesday 12 September, 10:01pm
Subject: Open me :)
Hey Goldie,
Hope you’re still okay with the nickname – I’m totally aware you’re almost sixteen, and there’s no way I would let Mum call me Tay-Tay any more, especially now T. Swift exists.
For all we know, Tay-Tay could be copyright these days – T. Swift’s reign is supreme, after all.
I hope you’re still chill with me calling you ‘Goldie’. If it’s annoying you, maybe think back to where it started.
You have to feel some kind of pity for two-year-old Taylor trying to echo your dad’s faux German accent as he said ‘Is-ZAOL-duh’. As you know, the best I could manage was ‘Gold-duhh?’.
Just in case you are mad about the nickname, let’s consider who’s at fault here – your dad. And your mum, really, for letting him take baby-naming ownership of you and your sis, fully aware that he would want to extend his opera obsession to his offspring. (BTW, I hear your dad is a legit opera reviewer now? What happened to his GM of Marketing gig?!)
Isolde and Violetta – not your average baby names.
I guess I should feel lucky that my dad’s into naming kids (and dogs) after musos. Speaking of dogs, you know we FINALLY got a husky about a year ago? Dad dubbed him Slash (aka Guns N’ Roses) before I even got a chance to consider a name.
Operatic associations and all, your name suits you – it’s one of a kind, just like you. (See how I’m turning this around with a compliment? I’m picturing your unimpressed frown melting into a smile as you think, Ah, that Taylor. Annoying, yet somehow so endearing.) Your name is memorable (again, just like you) and spot on for a famous ballet dancer (which we both know you’ll be).
Isolde Byrne, dancing the part of Odette in Swan Lake … There, I actually said your real name!
When you’re here next year for the wedding, I’ll have to take a shot at saying it out loud. Anyway, what I was intending to say is that I’m sorry to hear about your break-up – Mum said something about a party and another dancer?
Okay, for real – I just shivered.
That could be because it’s FREEZING tonight, OR, the more logical explanation: I can physically sense that you are fuming at your mum for sharing this with my mum.
You know, I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you this, but I’m kind of fascinated by you when you get angry, Goldie.
MORE NEWS
Stars line up for Fire Fight Australia concert
Kids Helpline prepares for call rise after bushfires
What to consider before donating to the bushfire appeal
I actually think your fury is pretty cool (when it’s not directed at me, that is), as it’s evidence of how much intensity you have inside you. When you get angry, it always makes me think of the feeling I get when I see you dance.
When you dance, it’s like you are saying (without uttering any words at all, which makes it even more magical) to anyone watching:
‘I can take you to a different world.’
Pretty legendary stuff.
Anyway, I know how much you like to keep things private (you’re the total opposite of yours truly, who leaps into the realm of overshare ALL THE TIME), but your mum is probably trying to help in her own (misguided) way.
If this guy has cheated on you, he must be some kind of imbecile, and you should consider yourself officially ‘winning’ to be rid of this type of bloke.
I know how much it kills to have something that felt solid and real dissolve in an instant. To look back over your time with someone and find yourself doubting every moment that you’d believed was authentic – wondering if they really ever loved you at all, because how does love – real love – go from something to nothing that fast?
Okay, now I feel like a storm-of-the-century is building up inside of ME at the thought of you feeling this way.
I need to know who this jerk is.
PAUSE EMAIL.
Okay, I’m back. I just went to your Instagram page (STALKER alert, Goldie, follow me back and it’s officially just one friend checking up on another, okay?) to try to see what Mr Imbecile looks like, and couldn’t find any pics of him on there (you’ve probably removed them, which is super healthy, props to you), but I did check the pics you were tagged in, which led me to his Instagram account.
There’s an old group shot from what looks like a music festival.
He looks like the type of guy who loves himself just a little too much.
Who goes to a music festival shirtless? Yuck.
Anyways, what I really wanted to say in this email (besides expressing my genuine sympathy) is that I’m sorry it’s been ages since we last spoke.
I know you tried to call a million times, and you wrote those letters and sent me all that Aussie chocolate (which was epic, BTW), and I pretty much took months to send you a ‘thanks’ text. I still feel like crap about that. You probably thought, Jeez, Taylor’s turned into a total s&*%, which is totally called for.
Not calling you back was an extra s&*% thing to do to you, given our last conversation was a fight about Natalia.
I knew the calls and messages were a peace branch, and I offered a pretty poor one back with the short text.
I guess all I can say is … I just couldn’t. I knew if we got on the phone, there would be just silence on my side, because for the first time in my life, I had no words. Things were … well, that bad after losing my leg.
Stopping there. This is exactly the stuff that my counsellor (yup, I have one of those now – her name is Claire) wants me to harp on about, and if I’m not doing that to someone who is PAID to hear it, I’m sure as hell not doing it to a friend.
Listen, can we make a pact that we don’t talk about the accident? Like I keep saying to Claire, what happened happened, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and I just want to focus on now.
I really hope you’ll write me back, Goldie. I’ve missed you.
X Tay
P.S. I’ve sent you a playlist. I’ll stick it on Spotify for you.
I’m sure you remember how Dad and I have a playlist for everything. (Don’t tell me the Pancake Brunch one doesn’t bring back good memories?)
This playlist is called Wallow in Your Sadness – which I thought you’d appreciate given it’s the OPPOSITE of everyone’s post-break-up advice.
*Disclaimer* – I’ve included some of the songs I played on repeat during the Natalia break-up. I know I’m taking a risk with that because:
1) It might be creepy for you to imagine me crying over break-up songs (you HAVE seen me cry once, when Finn and I were wrestling and he accidentally kneed me in the man-parts, but any guy would have shed involuntary tears in that situation), but try to give me points for being in touch with my emotions, will you?
2) You’ll probably hate knowing that I was broken-hearted enough to cry over her. (Let’s face it, you picked what would happen, a mile off.)
P.P.S. I’m aware there’re some old songs on there – blame my dad for that one, you know he’d disown me if I showed signs of any-song-older-than-last-year-sucks! prejudice.
An extract from The Long Distance Playlist by Tara Eglington, published by HarperCollins, out now.
Originally published as From Skye, emails and text to heartbreak: Author Tara Eglington captures it all in her new book