Ubiquitous End of Year Round-Up

This year, my son turned twenty-one. I know I should list the books here, the things I’ve achieved and read and written and learned and seen, but this year, my son turned twenty-one. He’s not had an easy time of it, but this was the year when he finally started working (after eighteen months in Job Search hell) and you can now find him at the Forbidden Planet in Croydon.

And if going back to the shop floor was a shock for me, four years ago, it’s been fascinating to see FP from the front lines, as opposed to from Head Office (or from the Megastore). Isaac’s loving his job, he really enjoys it, an I’m so happy to see him so happy.

In other news, this was the year that we lost our little Pixie cat, our stubborn and very opinionated tuxedo. She was getting very old, fell ill in the summer, and she faded away before our eyes, poor little one. We did everything for her that we could, medications and painkillers and endless visits to the vet, but the day came when she’d absolutely had enough, and we had to make that last farewell. She was at home, with us here by her, and our hearts are still broken.

The arrival of Binx, a week ago, can in no way replace her or Coco, in the same way that Pixie and Coco, fourteen years ago, couldn’t replace Lilith or Ayesha (or the two big ol’ boys, Oscar and Spam). Every kitty is different, they all touch us in their own way, and we miss Pixie still, even as Binx is sniffing his way round the flat.

In horribly mundane terrors, I’m still fighting my way through a Lease extension (nasty thing, an outmoded – and very expensive – corner of UK law that should’ve been abolished many, many years ago). It seems very much a first world problem, when set against the backdrop of ever-rising darkness that rears over us like a building tsunami, but sometimes, dealing with the small things can make us feel capable again, as the big ones are so far outside our control.

I’m not going into it here, but the despair can be real. We know this.

And so, we come around to the books. First year in a long time I’ve not had a novel out, though there was a cheeky short in the Black Shuck Books antho, Something Peculiar, which was my love letter to junk shops, to Loose’s on Magdalen Street in Norwich, and to Snooper’s Paradise in Brighton. It was one of those tales that’d been nibbling at me for years (always said I’d write it, Jon) and I was delighted to get it out of my head and on paper.

This year’s big achievement though (other than the giant child), was finally seeing Lugan Vision Quest released on the world. This was a project I started in the Summer of 2017, just as something for me: the story that followed on from the ECKO series, and that had never quite manage to leave me alone.

When I set out, I had no boundaries, no daily wordcounts, no target in mind, other just exploring the ideas, and then came Mercy, and Bigger Than Biggs, and The Bloodied Rose, and my professional writing took a new and different angle.

But I came back to Lugan, year after year, almost as a comfort-thing, a story between stories, slowly fleshing it out as I explored the world and its changes. It was something I fell in love with, and (tooting my own for a second), I was really pleased with how it came out. I’ never really thought I’d finish it, but hey, here we are.

Moving into 2026 (and that number seems utterly surreal), I have three new novels completed, all very different, and can’t wait to be able to share them. And I have a couple of resolutions, the first one to pay attention to my (appalling) painting (eyeroll), the second to continue to go places and do/see stuff, which has got much harder since Covid, for some reason. Maybe it’s a momentum thing, and maybe because it’s that much more difficult to do stuff by yourself, but (as with so many things), the more you do it, the easier it gets (the painting too, I suspect).

I also need to keep writing these, and a little more regularly :)

Reading: last book of the year was I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCrudy, and wow was that a journey. A gentle and thoroughly insightful look at (insidiously, in this case) controlling/manipulative parenting, at abusive relationships, and at the damage these things can do. It’s a surprisingly easy and accessible read, and there’s a lesson here for all of us. Namely: the importance of learning boundaries.

Watching: Isaac and I are just finishing Torchwood, which I’ve never watched before. With Doctor Who nose-diving into the sun, it’s a reminder that Russell T can really write the good shit. And Eve Myles is amazing.

Playing: I’m on extended PlayStation break, but our Al-Qadim continues to be absolutely hilarious, as our low level party manage to fumble every dice roll and fuck up everything they do. It should be frustrating, but honestly, it’s just funny. The best games involve drama and pacing and people hung upon every click-clack of those damned maths rocks, and this has been edge of the seat stuff. Will we actually mange to finish the adventure?

Only time will tell!