2011. A year with a difference.

Okay, so taking a quick look down this page will reveal that today is the first day of blogging since the summer of 2007. A lot has happened since then. Sadly, not much of it is particularly interesting.

Notable events (for good and/or bad) include; going to Antarctica, publishing Spritz (and getting an audiobook deal), losing many loved ones, meeting some very new ones, the ongoing illness debacle, the discovery of antiques and finding some very excellent writing chums.

2011 is a year for change; mostly of attitude but also of lifestyle. I've cut down the amount of paid work that I'm doing, in exchanged for soul enriching work. I will probably get thinner, but I shall have a full heart.

At the end this month I'm sending a sitcom off to a BBC competition. I was writing it last autumn with a plan to send it around the production companies in early 2011. It's about a touring function band in the style / feel of Peep Show / Spaced / Black Books etc. If anyone's interested in reading some then let me know.

In February I'm heading back into my second novel 'theLost and theForgotten' which has been languishing on my hard-drive for almost a year. Time to kick it into shape and get it out to agents and publishers. Again, interested readers let me know. Here's a link to an extract

I've also joined forces with an awesome bunch of interesting, funny and smart people to write poetry and eat some lovely cake. The Gingerbread Poets Society has already spawned a few creative works. I shall bow out for now with a small poem.

The Icicle Pirates
Beneath sails of sleet, on planks of ice,
The Icicle Pirates prepare to fight.
On seas of crystal, under carrion skies,
The Icicle Pirates turn their eyes—
To craquelure fingers on swords of floe,
And muskets dripping with falling snow.
They watch and wait for sunlight to die,
Reflecting no more off each diamond eye.

Under darkness they glisten and harden and wait,
The Icicle Pirates gird their power and hate.
The violence to come is shrouded in fear,
The Icicle Pirates sharpen their ears—
To cries rising up and feet that pound down,
Like daggers of lightning they pierce the ground.
Screeching and scrapping the Pirates let fly,
Shards of existence, glisten, fall and die.