This has been a very peculiar year, but then all years are peculiar. Being 40 (which is nothing but one of those thinky sort of milestones) and all, having had Bell’s Palsy (which I forget about until my eye starts hurting, or I see a photograph of me – my Uni ID photo looks awful lopsided this year), and feeling a little down about the whole thing has made me even quieter here.
But it doesn’t mean that I have stopped writing, in fact I have finished two drafts of things in the last month, one a book that has haunted me for nearly five years (actually six, which is rather alarming, but there you go), and the other a Death Works novella (which I am polishing now, more on that later, but it has been a wonderful thing to write, and it’s turned out a little longer than I was expecting – let’s just say that people’s lives – and deaths – didn’t get any less complicated after the Business of Death).
There’s been some teaching as well – my poor students having to put up with my slurry voice – and more writing.
I don’t think I’m the most prolific writer.
I’m not a churner, even if it occasionally looks like I am. But I sit down as often as I can, and I try and write, because even when it’s bad it’s good. Writing is the constant in my life, and has been since I could write a story (or try to write a story). And it’s a goad and a comfort, and it’s interesting, and it’s sunk into my bones and my marrow, and when I take that away I feel kind of hollow.
I might clump and clunk, but it’s still me. And I always hope to get better, and even when I don’t, there’s always room for more hope.
That is all, except you can now get this which is a really rather grand anthology and my story The Lighterman’s Tale is in it. As are some truly wonderful stories by some of Australia’s most wonderful SF writers. Worth a buy.