It was like a total eclipse of the sun, a maelstrom of bad karma. There was a real feeling of darkness after 9/11. Our world had changed for ever.
Professionally, nobody wanted to commit to anything long-term, including advertising, and it soon became obvious that our backers weren't going to wait.
There was this awful feeling - the end was coming. This malaise was going to continue and we weren't going to survive it. It was a heartbreak.
Talk had begun with a great launch party on Liberty Island. It was a fantastic hot summer night, in late August, and we hired this huge ferry to bring the guests over. One boatload disgorged Madonna, Salman Rushdie, Demi Moore, Sting… We lit the island with Chinese lanterns, we gave each person a picnic box and we had blankets spread out on the grass. We had Macy Gray, who was just breaking, as the entertainment. People climbed up the Statue of Liberty with no guides. It was the last great party of the 1990s. It was so high-profile, it was probably too much. But I don't regret it.
I was one of the last to leave, and as I came back on the boat with Helen Mirren and Kate Moss, Liam Neeson and Natasha Richardson, a huge wave came flying out and completely drenched us. I remember saying to my husband, Harry [Sir Harold Evans]: "Reality begins!"
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Talk was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I wasn't able to take people from Vanity Fair or The New Yorker because our budget was much lower. But I managed to scrape together a wonderful staff. In our first issue we broke the story of Hillary Clinton talking about her marriage. It became a really good magazine. It went for 24 issues - a two-year run. It folded at the same point at which Si Newhouse had been about to fold Vanity Fair, two years into it, and I'd said to him: "Just give me another six months." And that was when it took off.
When Talk went under, we swam in a howling sea of Schadenfreude. I'd had three successes - Tatler, Vanity Fair and The New Yorker - and I wasn't going to be cheered on to have a fourth. That's life. The New York Times ran eight negative pieces by the same person. It became a blood sport - I became target practice. There's no doubt it's more fun to bring a woman down - and a blonde - than a man. But it was a problem for the project. I minded, because it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Anyone with a long career has enemies. I've published stuff that has offended, rejected articles from people I didn't think were good enough who then harboured a grudge. I've had great jobs that people have wanted, perhaps thought they could do better. Now the criticism washes over me - I grew a thick skin over time. People blog about me all the time but it's just noise. It always surprises me when people spend so much time reading about themselves, because all it does is ruin your day.
There was a meeting with all the partners. Hearst made it clear that they weren't going to stay and so did the Weinsteins. I was in denial. I was still trying to find backers till the end. I was extremely aggravated, and saddened.
It was like losing a loved one. And it was just not something I'd experienced, the loss of something that I cared so much about. Jobs have never been just jobs for me, and I found it very wounding to see this thing go down.
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You think: "What could I have done differently?" I felt terrible on behalf of the people I'd hired. I spent a lot of time internalising what I wouldn't do again. I realised that, no matter how committed you are, if the business partners aren't on the same page, it's an absurd grandiosity to imagine that you can overcome that. I used to jump in with both feet. Now I'd be more careful.
It dovetailed with my mother and father having died. That put it in perspective. I realised that you have to put these things behind you. You can't sit around and mope. I had done nothing but work like a lunatic from the age of 25, for 22 years. I love it! I wake up in the morning and I want to run to the office. But there is a lot of stress involved. I only had a few weeks of maternity leave for each kid, and living with Talk was a misery. It was unending drama from start to finish, and that's pretty taxing on a household. Harry was forbearing but it was exhausting to have this thing flowing through the house. Izzy was 12 and George was 16 by the end.
Now I didn't have the executive job, so I went back to writing. It was actually great being around for the kids - being able to go to my daughter's school to pick her up, and to rush off to my son's [boarding] school every other weekend. In terms of pure contentment, the last few years have been the best of my life. And my kids have never been happier.
The Diana Chronicles, by Tina Brown, is published by Century, price £18.99
Interview: Kathy Brewis