It's been a hugely mixed day today. Everyone is still suffering from various coughs, colds and other nasties. If I did a review of the year I could look at it two very different ways. I could list the sad events, the negatives and the frustrations. I could also list the amazingly positive events and, I suspect these two sides would almost even out.

On the positive side, I finished my novel today, one day ahead of schedule. It is drivel of the highest order but I hope to make some revisions and make it into something I might let friends read. It's probably not as bad as I think it is but, in order to get it written I've had to have a policy of not re-reading. I'm expecting a few clunking great continuity errors at the very least.

Thank you to all the people who have offered encouragement. If I do this again I'm going to get a t-shirt that says "Don't ask me why I'm writing novel." I understand why people ask this question (and two people who have asked it are folks I love and respect greatly) but can't we just do things for the hell of it?

I wanted to write this because it's the dream I've had longer than any other. Before I understood the power music had in my life I had a dream that I was sitting in a white room, typing a book on an Imperial typewriter. Outside the one window was a beautiful garden. I used a MacBook Pro and my garden looks like shit, but the dream has been realised.

Now, I can have a reasonably early night.


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