That was a pretty fucked up year. Not one of my better efforts. And yet, right at the very end, I punched out a big piece of work, commissioned at the last minute. It was just some script doctoring, so maybe that helped. It wasn’t mine, so I felt no pressure. I just had to clean up a screenplay and add some jokes.
I got up early on Christmas Eve to finish it and I felt… excited.
Haven’t felt that in a while.
Anyway, I wrapped up the job by 9 am and got to wrangling the reindeer and elves and shit. Had everything set up for tomorrow by four.
Hope everyone has a great day.
Eat, drink and have a good time. Thank you all the burgers, and look forward to lots of fun next year.
i had in laws at my place for varying amount of times - at one point we put up the hipster glamping teepee the other half wanted and we camped outside giving up our bed to the mother in law. It torrentially downpoured on our area alone - on the radar it was one little angry eye of red with nothing in the rest of the state (tent held up) but it was xmas eve that was the true test. It was the first warm night of the year (over 14 degrees) and the termites swarmed. They are small enough to penetrate most tents and forced the other half inside where i thought i could hack it. Spent the night slapping at creepy crawlies that penetrated the tents defences. Finally getting to sleep at about 3am only to be woken up at 6 by the kids wanting to open presents (some moron in our family made a rule kids cant open presents unless everyone is awake and there for it - which heads off the 2am present raid but means the kids wake up at 5 and pester everyone till they get up). So i did two of the biggest days of the year on 3 hours sleep. It was wild.
Let's hope the new year is not as bad as the Annus Horribilis in days of yore. The Sword of Damocles still hangs over us all, in the guise of the Dreaded Lurgy as wonderful old Spike said to no one in particular. He is credited with one of the greatest lines of poetry that any bard could write.
"I must go down to the sea again, the lonely sea and sky, I left my vest and pants there, I wonder if they are dry?" That ghostly groan you hear is Mr Macefield, emanating from Poets Corner at Westminster Abbey.
I met a wizened old man as I rambled through the woods, he spoke of a disquieting prophecy, passed down to him from the Great Sage atop the Mountain of Wisdom.
What doesn’t kill you mutates and tries again.
Greetings of the season, take care and consider 2023, how could it possibly be worse than 2022?
Merry Christmas JB to you and your family, when you return in 2023 maybe you can work out why your UK publisher just canned the pre-orders for Forever Dead!
If you also know when the Audible for The Shattered Skies is coming to the UK that would be amazing :D (I know a day late for Santa wishes)