Lisa Lynch is a formidable lady. At 28 her life was shaping up nicely. She was married to the lovely P, had a dream job as a magazine editor and big ambitions before her 30th. Then ‘The Bullshit’ arrived - breast cancer - and suddenly she faced a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

Lisa duly started to pen down her darkest thoughts, comedy observations and general life musings in her blog Alright Tit. As she endured her treatment, her readership grew, Stephen Fry bigged her up on Twitter and she was snapped up for a book deal.

In June 2009 after one mastectomy, reconstructive surgery, five months of chemo and six weeks of radiotherapy Lisa was thrilled to learn that her first cancerversary mammogram was clear.

With her book The C-Word out now GINA SMITH catches up with her…

Hi Lisa, congrats on your book! What can readers expect?

Thank you! As to what readers can expect – in short, the truth about my run-in with The Bullshit (or ‘breast cancer’ to folk less sweary than I). I think they can expect a book that tells it like it is – it’s not always easy to read, but I like to think that it never strays more than a couple of strides from humour.

How long did it take you to write?

As The C-Word is based on my blog, Alright Tit, I had the basis of the structure before I began, as I knew that I wanted to begin each chapter with a blog post. But in terms of writing the rest, it was around six months. Which, somewhat tragically, is faster than the average amount of time it usually takes me to read a book.

How easy was it to get a book deal?

Mine was quite an unorthodox route to getting published. It all happened rather by accident, thanks to a tweet by a certain lofty actor/writer/comedian/national treasure. My now literary agent had joined Twitter that same day and got in touch to ask if I’d considered turning my blog into a book, and within a couple of months we’d got together a proposal and had a few offers on the table. I feel a bit guilty about falling into becoming an author that way, but then I dare say I was due a bit of payback after all the cancer stuff, eh?

How did it differ from writing your blog?

My blog was – and still is – largely a reaction to however I’m feeling at the time of writing. It’s about an immediate experience rather than a reflective narrative and so the book, naturally, had to be more considered and record the experience in a different way. Thus while the blog was more of a catharsis, in order to write The C-Word I had to delve deeper into the thoughts, feelings and experiences that I had either blocked out or glossed over at the time. For example, I had to discover what the moment of learning about my diagnosis had been like for my family and friends. That’s a thing I couldn’t have dealt with at the time, but was necessary to know for the book.

You don’t mince your words and call cancer ‘the bullshit’ – how does it feel to be out the other side?

I’d love to be able to tell you, but in truth I have no idea. I don’t feel like I am out of the other side, really. I doubt that there even is an ‘other side’. I know that might sound horribly defeatist, but in actual fact from the moment you’re told you have cancer your life changes irreparably. It’s not just something to scrap your way through for a year or eighteen months or however long it takes to contain a tumour, but is instead something that – like it or not – you spend the rest of your life managing. At the risk of bombarding you with ‘the science bit’, for my specific diagnosis there is no ‘all clear’. Hence I have six-weekly check-ups and am, much of the time, waiting for scan/test/x-ray results of some sort.

What was the worst point of ‘the bullshit’ for you?

Coof, that’s like choosing your favourite moment in a leg-wax. Chemo was often a living hell, but then of course there was the horror of having to tell my family I had cancer, the strange Stockholm-Syndrome-like feeling that came after my immediate treatment ended, and the continual waiting for test results – and the paranoia that comes with it. This might come back to bite me on the ass, but I’ve always said that whatever the doctors tell me, I’ll deal with it – and regardless of what the news is, it can’t be worse than the torture of waiting.

Stephen Fry called you ‘the web’s top cancer bitch’ but you’re secretly quite nice aren’t you…

Well I like to think I’m quite nice, I s’pose, aye. [shuffles nervously] I certainly wasn’t ever trying to be a ‘cancer bitch’ but I think what His Fryness picked up on was the alter-ego of pure kick-ass that tended to surface in the worst moments of The Bullshit. Like a bald Sasha Fierce!

Has the book had a good reaction from fellow breast cancer sufferers?

Overwhelmingly good. I can’t get my head around the number of emails, letters and messages I’ve received since it was published. I’d love to be able to take credit for that and tell you that I was purposely trying to reach out to women who’ve been through the same but, in truth, I think I was only writing about my experience to keep myself from going crazy.

Did you find writing about your experiences cathartic?

Hugely so. But more than that, it also gave me the chance to move past cancer as much as possible, and not have it dominate my conversations. By putting everything out there online, it answered people’s questions and let them know how I was feeling without them having to tiptoe around me or tilt their head in concern. More often than not, people ask me about my blog before they ask about The Bullshit, which I appreciate more than they can imagine.

How did cancer affect your relationship with your husband?

It didn’t. That sounds rather a glib thing to say, but even pre-cancer I knew that me and P were a force to be reckoned with. That’s why whenever one of us would ask “why us?”, the other would say “because we can handle it”.

You’ve said in the past that during your treatment you hated people opening conversations with “How have you been?” Were you ever tempted to reply with a sarcastic response?

I was always tempted, but I don’t think I’ve ever risen to the bait. At least not in person, anyway! I guess there’s always a Mark-from-Peep-Show internal dialogue in which you snap back with ‘shit, actually’, but I can’t ever remember actually verbalising it!

You also said that cancer made you more popular, which must have been odd. Did you ever feel as though the cancer defined your personality? Was that irritating?

That still bothers me actually; I’m constantly fighting with it. I might always be fighting with it, who knows? And as much as I’d like one, I don’t think there’s a tidy answer. When your nearest and dearest have to consider the thought of losing you, it’s bound to result in more calls/visits/cards/emails/flowers/Facebook friends. And while it’s lovely to spend more time with the folk who mean the most to you, you do have to work hard to move that contact beyond The Bullshit, otherwise you’ll for ever more be an exhibit for people to gawp at. I can’t deny that The Bullshit has formed a major part of my life and – whether I like it or not – had an effect on who I am. But I don’t want to be seen as ‘Lisa the cancer patient’ or ‘Lisa who had breast cancer’. I just want to be Lisa. Lisa the wife, Lisa the daughter, Lisa the sister, Lisa the friend, Lisa the writer. Just an ordinary girl who experienced something extraordinary.

Has cancer changed you? Are you more spontaneous in life?

I suppose I’m a bit of a reformed planaholic. Pre-Bullshit, I was your typical turbo-Virgo with a Grand Life Plan mapped out in front of me. I thought I had it all worked out. But then along came a tumour to prove just how little in life you’re able to plan. It hasn’t curbed my ambitions or my enthusiasm; just given me a kick up the jacksie in terms of realising that I’m not always in control. It’s simultaneously frightening and invigorating.

Where do you write?

I’m very much of the Charlotte Ward School Of Writing. PJs, laptop, sofa, telly, tea. Then realising with horror that it’s 3pm and I haven’t yet brushed my teeth.

Who are your favourite authors?

Nick Hornby, Bill Bryson, Stuart Maconie and – a recent discovery – Craig Silvey. He’s only 26 and is so incredibly talented it makes me want to puke.

Any advice for budding writers?

The most obvious thing: write. Start a blog, carry a notebook, test out ideas in emails to your mates, be creative with Facebook statuses or Twitter updates, send yourself text messages with inspirations. Generally if I don’t write something down, I forget it – hence a drawer filled with notes written on beer mats, receipts and bingo tickets.

If you could give one message to women going through cancer what would it be?

If you’ve discovered it, you’re already en route to getting something done about it. Worse even than knowing what you have is not knowing, so surrender to the amazing medical professionals around you and trust the force. Oh, and swear like a mofo.

What’s next? Will there be another book?

I’m continuing to write my blog and I’m also writing a novel which is new territory for me and thus a verrrrry slooooow process. But I loveloveLOVE writing, and hope that I can continue to turn a once-shitty situation to my advantage.

The C-Word by Lisa Lynch is out now. Buy it here!