Of course my son will not read my novel – I am his mother. He’s not interested

The best of Voices delivered to your inbox every week - from controversial columns to expert analysis Sign up for our free weekly Voices newsletter for expert opinion and columns Sign up to our free weekly Voices newsletter SIGN UP I would like to be emailed about offers, events and updates from The Independent. It’s a YA novel and I said to my 13-year-old son, “Do you think you’ll read my book?” He narrowed his eyes, thinking about the best and most polite way to put it, then said: “Erm, no. I gave him the empathetic, motherly look that I save for special occasions and said: “Is it because it’s a bit weird reading something that I wrote?” My boy gave me an impassive look back, then grinned. I’m so excited when he’s a fan of another comedian that I needily tell him personal anecdotes about them: “Oh, he played football with you when we went to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival when you were four!”, or, “Oh, she came to our house once, don’t you remember? I’LL FIND PHOTOS!” Now, there’s an admission – I boast to my 13-year-old son about the people that I know in order to look cool, which is the most uncool, needy thing anyone can do.