No, it IS good, I promise! I’m at a low ebb. The creative vim and vigour I felt after the week-long writing-slash-wellness-slash-cold-water-swimming (voluntary) retreat to which I retreated in September* has through temporal entropy become foggy and indistinct; coupled with what feels like a year-long cold I can barely lift my AeroPress®™ espresso without sighing. It didn’t help that in all the beautiful photos taken by the immensely talented Jassy Earl (quickly, send her money , you feckless boobs!) I look like a fat, 46-year-old who’s going all-in on his dad-jowls and is resigned to his fate – not even Jassy can disguise the attritional damage of time and neglect. So, to start a new sentence with a preposition, I decided that the only way to lift my spirit is to lift up other people, starting with Jassy but continuing with my good friend Clare Harman Clark and her historical romance (histomance? romanstory? romantasy? Where’s a good portmanteau when you need one?) The Sealed Knot.
- Get link
- Other Apps