Nothing as interesting as the stuff goin' on in the Marvin Gaye song, I hasten to mention.
I've submitted my final anthology story for The Affair and working very hard on convincing myself that what I think a story is like is hardly ever what anyone else thinks it is. Which can be a good thing or a bad thing. Cryptic enough for you, eh? Eh?
It's just that, for some reason, I have that annoying line of Dr Johnson's burned into my brain: 'Read over your compositions, and when you meet a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.' I'm just entertaining a sneaky hope that the converse might be true and passages I think are really strange and probably terrible, but seem stubbornly resistant to editing, are truly my finest work. Arf arf.
On the bright side, finishing that story means that I can crack open a few books that have been awaiting my attentions, most notably Janine Ashbless's Dark Enchantment, plus everything I got for Christmas.
And when I've finished that, I shall start the book I intend to win in the Random House Valentine's Day prize draw. Details here, for anyone who wants to fight me, I mean, join me in bidding, for Portia da Costa's In Too Deep.