January’s here once again and I stare out of the window at bare trees and a pale blue sky. For me, January is to months what Monday is to days. What seems like thousands of seagulls squawk and every fifty minutes, the sound of familiar, cacophonous chimes, so loud everyone from Titicaca to Timbuktu can hear them, insult my ears. Okay, bit of an exaggeration, but you get my drift. The perils of living near a school. I’m convinced every student aged between eleven and eighteen must be hard of hearing. No joke, but the new, innovative electronic school bell is audible within a mile’s radius and is a pain in the clapper. Technology’s great, isn’t it? What happened to the good, old-fashioned, ringy-dingy thing? You know that handheld effort, where two pieces of metal collide at the speed of a machine gun? At least on the bright side (pun intended), the sun’s shining. Every cloud and all that!
As someone who experiences Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), January’s always a challenging month. Symptoms start in November, but at least there’s the distraction of Christmas and all the dazzling lights in December. Unfortunately, by the time the new year passes, or Hogmanay, as my adopted compatriots call it, Christmas is a distant memory. The trees are bare, everyone’s complaining about being skint, or the weather’s appalling, or they must go back to work, etc.
At one time, everything just seemed lifeless, but I had to look for the positives. In recent years, I’ve learned to see nature as not dead in winter, but sleeping. Hibernating. Trees go to sleep in autumn, ready for rebirth in spring. For us humans who aren’t lucky enough to hibernate, life goes on. I’m penning the first draft of the second Windy & Darling book, Fatal Fungus. Wen’s editing the early chapters as my fingers write this blog. Adding her magic sparkle to the prose. Igniting the dialogue with fiery aplomb. Before we know it, we’ll have the second book written, edited, formatted, and ready for release.
Other positive developments include another format for Deadly Dough. The first story under the Windy & Darling umbrella is undergoing the audiobook treatment. Wen’s talents don’t stop at the editing stage, her dulcet tones gracing the recording while I do all the necessaries with the soundwaves. Once our first audiobook is available, the second will get the same treatment. So will a third, separate from the Windy & Darling saga.
Back in 2020, that seems eons ago, our publishing imprint, Whisper Publishing (now Whisper Press), released a young adult paranormal fantasy novella. Billy Lemonade by Sarah J Maxwell. We are giving the story a new title and turning it into an audiobook, to retail alongside the eBook and paperback. We’ve always believed Billy to be an outstanding piece of literature and it deserves greater success. However, with hindsight, the original title wasn’t quite right. Feedback has always said a great story, but it sounds middle grade, not YA. The quest for a new title began months ago and now, following major feedback and much umming and aahing, we have it.
Now, back to the January blues. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for (besides my SAD lamp), is tea and coffee. I know that’s technically two things, but they both come under the banner of hot drinks and are my best friends, especially at this time of year. I’m lucky enough to be writing this blog on a bright winter’s day, but yesterday was a different story. Cold, dark, and damp, or driech as we say in bonny Scotland. Then a storm with the wind gusting up to sixty miles an hour and wheelie bins, plus contents, taking off without permission from air traffic control! Cold, dark, grim days are always a challenge, especially in January, for those with SAD. Again, I say thank you, tea and coffee. And I thank the stars!
Wen’s busy editing—she doesn’t have to deal with that old devil called SAD—but she has her own evils and faces them remarkably. Now I’m nearly done with this blog, I’ll prep my eats to commemorate Burns Night. A time to enjoy Scottish traditions and celebrate Robert Burns with the classic neeps, tatties, and whisky sauce. I’ll have nut roast instead of haggis, maybe spout a wee poem, and enjoy a dram of malt. That little lot’ll chase away the January blues, and come next week, January’ll be over for another year. Time marches on!
Cheers, people. That’s me away!
Ark.
January’s here once again and I stare out of the window at bare trees and a pale blue sky. For me, January is to months what Monday is to days. What seems like thousands of seagulls squawk and every fifty minutes, the sound of familiar, cacophonous chimes, so loud everyone from Titicaca to Timbuktu can hear them, insult my ears. Okay, bit of an exaggeration, but you get my drift. The perils of living near a school. I’m convinced every student aged between eleven and eighteen must be hard of hearing. No joke, but the new, innovative electronic school bell is audible within a mile’s radius and is a pain in the clapper. Technology’s great, isn’t it? What happened to the good, old-fashioned, ringy-dingy thing? You know that handheld effort, where two pieces of metal collide at the speed of a machine gun? At least on the bright side (pun intended), the sun’s shining. Every cloud and all that!
As someone who experiences Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), January’s always a challenging month. Symptoms start in November, but at least there’s the distraction of Christmas and all the dazzling lights in December. Unfortunately, by the time the new year passes, or Hogmanay, as my adopted compatriots call it, Christmas is a distant memory. The trees are bare, everyone’s complaining about being skint, or the weather’s appalling, or they must go back to work, etc.
At one time, everything just seemed lifeless, but I had to look for the positives. In recent years, I’ve learned to see nature as not dead in winter, but sleeping. Hibernating. Trees go to sleep in autumn, ready for rebirth in spring. For us humans who aren’t lucky enough to hibernate, life goes on. I’m penning the first draft of the second Windy & Darling book, Fatal Fungus. Wen’s editing the early chapters as my fingers write this blog. Adding her magic sparkle to the prose. Igniting the dialogue with fiery aplomb. Before we know it, we’ll have the second book written, edited, formatted, and ready for release.
Other positive developments include another format for Deadly Dough. The first story under the Windy & Darling umbrella is undergoing the audiobook treatment. Wen’s talents don’t stop at the editing stage, her dulcet tones gracing the recording while I do all the necessaries with the soundwaves. Once our first audiobook is available, the second will get the same treatment. So will a third, separate from the Windy & Darling saga.
Back in 2020, that seems eons ago, our publishing imprint, Whisper Publishing (now Whisper Press), released a young adult paranormal fantasy novella. Billy Lemonade by Sarah J Maxwell. We are giving the story a new title and turning it into an audiobook, to retail alongside the eBook and paperback. We’ve always believed Billy to be an outstanding piece of literature and it deserves greater success. However, with hindsight, the original title wasn’t quite right. Feedback has always said a great story, but it sounds middle grade, not YA. The quest for a new title began months ago and now, following major feedback and much umming and aahing, we have it.
Now, back to the January blues. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for (besides my SAD lamp), is tea and coffee. I know that’s technically two things, but they both come under the banner of hot drinks and are my best friends, especially at this time of year. I’m lucky enough to be writing this blog on a bright winter’s day, but yesterday was a different story. Cold, dark, and damp, or driech as we say in bonny Scotland. Then a storm with the wind gusting up to sixty miles an hour and wheelie bins, plus contents, taking off without permission from air traffic control! Cold, dark, grim days are always a challenge, especially in January, for those with SAD. Again, I say thank you, tea and coffee. And I thank the stars!
Wen’s busy editing—she doesn’t have to deal with that old devil called SAD—but she has her own evils and faces them remarkably. Now I’m nearly done with this blog, I’ll prep my eats to commemorate Burns Night. A time to enjoy Scottish traditions and celebrate Robert Burns with the classic neeps, tatties, and whisky sauce. I’ll have nut roast instead of haggis, maybe spout a wee poem, and enjoy a dram of malt. That little lot’ll chase away the January blues, and come next week, January’ll be over for another year. Time marches on!
Cheers, people. That’s me away!
Ark.