And I think I’m OK with that.  Since fuel prices are increasing exponentially (something that affects me these days, how depressingly grown up) I forsee a lot of sweeping round the flat wearing my patchwork blanket like a mantle and demanding ale and wenches.  It’s going to be pretty sweet.

The frost and encroaching darkness have also made me think about how quickly this year has gone by, even without writing a book every month to keep myself busy.  Homespun and interrailing and working full time for a change have all filled my life pretty effectively, giving me a little less time to write around the edges than I had last year – and now here we are in October 2012.  This time last year I was writing a horror story every day, or trying to, and gearing up for my NaNoWriMo attempt at a literary opus.  Fourteen days into a new October and I’ve written two stories – or rather I’ve begun them – and perhaps a couple of thousand words of another kids book I’m working on.  I’ve not been unproductive, just nowhere near as productive as this time 12 months ago, and crucially I still have nothing from last year properly finished.

Meanwhile Victor McGlynn, Ovid McHaggis, the Nephrop and the rest are all pootling about in the back of my mind, wondering when I’m going to go back to them.  I don’t have a concrete answer, but basically I am hoping to be snowed in for about 2 months to give myself a clear run – maybe starting when the clocks change and letting up in time for Christmas?  I will be praying to Michael Fish and Jake Gyllenhaal to make it so, please feel free to join me.

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