...because stuff has been happening.
Like, the wonderful (seriously amazing) people at Arts Council England awarded me a 'time to write' grant so I could noodle away at my next book for a year.
Like, I'm already four months into my grant period and I've got something that is starting to look like an actual story.
Like, it's about floods and rain and seagulls and setting fire to stuff and adolescence and humanity and a twelve-year-old girl who I want to be reincarnated as.
Like, first drafts are hard.
Like, it's been a long time since I wrote a first draft.
Like, White Lies is gonna be one year old in July.
Like, how the actual fuck?
Like, thanks for buying a copy, if that's what you did - and if you didn't, well, thanks for reading this, at least. Why don't you get one now? It would be super dooper nice of you. It's like, less than a fiver as an e-book. You might enjoy it. It's about fucked up families and grief and insomniac craziness and editing your memories to make yourself feel better about all the crappy decisions you made in your life.
Like, I'm temporarily taking over Brighton Writers Retreat while the lovely Sarah goes off to squeeze out a baby. You should come along, if you like writing and stuff. It basically involves me locking you in a room full of writers and plying you with tea and sandwiches until you write several thousand words. It's not at all as scary as it sounds.
Like, I keep meaning to blog, because that's what you're meant to do, but self-marketing is hard, dude.
I think that's it. I'm sure more stuff will come along soon. In the meantime, you can sometimes find me thinking aloud on Twitter @jmgatford.