So here we are … Christmas has been and gone, and we’re looking 2016 firmly in the eye.
How about you – any life-changing body-morphing liver-mending resolves made? Fortunately for my liver, my appreciation of alcohol is correlated to quality rather than quantity these days. The Chief Medical Officer and I are so in alignment, with no effort on my part. Must be getting old.
And I’m even smugger on the exercise front. I’ve been walking, quite regularly, in an effort to burn up some of the festive feasting. That isn’t actually me on Burnham Beach above, but I did take the photo. On the sea wall. So there.
So what are my resolutions, if booze and moving more are already smugly checked off the 2016 list? Weeell – it’s all about the writing, actually. Getting it done, to be precise. I’ve got my novel roughly outlined now, thanks to NaNoWriMo, and a mountain of research to back it up. And loads of inspiration from meeting wonderful SF author and local witchcraft purveyor Liz Williams, who very kindly allowed her experienced and creative brains to be picked over tea in Glastonbury. So no excuses. Just need to get away from enticing prevarications like oven-cleaning, changing the fridge filter, even the tax return (so help me, submitted three weeks early this year).
Yep, I’m going as far as I can, to the south coast of Cornwall to be exact. Three weeks in a miniature holiday flat overlooking St Michael’s Mount (amazing how much cheaper Cornwall is in January, wonder why? Not the unrelenting grey skies and serial gales, surely?) and nothing, really nothing to do but write and walk the beach.
Should really power up the leg rehab, then. So that’s good.
See you in February, with a Roman Britain blockbuster.
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