Warning. The following contains grumpiness.
Christmas is done and 2012 is on its way out. It's funny - I had my first book published this year and signed a contract for a second (not to forget getting word on having a short story published next year) and I've written a couple of what might be my best books, but I'll still be glad to see the back of this year. Almost everything outside my writing has been a bag of shit, frankly. What with family illness, our house being worth precisely bog all compared to when we bought five years ago, the same money worries everyone else in the world has got and ending the year with a vet bill big enough to put us in debt, I'll be glad when 2012 is over.
In writing-related news, I'm getting stuck into the edits for The Mirror of The Nameless which means it should hopefully be ready for a couple of readers by the end of January; I'm still hoping to hear back re a couple of older submissions, and without mentioning any names, I should have a Q&A with one of my favourite thriller/YA writers coming up at some point soon.
So, goodbye 2012. You gave me my first published book, but I'll still be glad when you're done. You've been a big pain in the arse.