Where Has the Year Gone?
End of September, the equinox has been and gone, and I’ve been quite busy this month – as busy as I want to be anyway. Mostly that has had to do with writing, but I did read a bit and watch some telly.
Back cover and spine.
I say writing, but more specifically, revising, proof reading, and working towards a book cover. All are going well, but they are time consuming. The only public manifestation of the work, so far, is my Amazon author profile, that you can find here: Ian Burdon. It only links, at present, to the anthology I had a story in, but watch that space!
The cover is not ready yet, but the back cover will be something like the image to the right. Click on it for a bigger image.
The other work has been revising the draft novel that went to the editor, to address the points she raised, and preparing the text of the next novel she will look at. If all goes according to plan, the short stories – Coyote in the Corner – will be out in late October (in time for Christmas, folks! Buy early and buy often and leave me 5* reviews), the first novel – The Raven and the Hart – around Easter 2022, and the second novel – The Magpie Rhyme – later in 2022. I’m about half way through a third novel, working title Up the White Road, that takes the stories in Coyote in the Corner further.
Also in my notebook is a set of ideas for a collection of short stories that spin off from The Magpie Rhyme, and also research for what follows. My thoughts on what follows are in a state of flux: a lot depends on whether I accrue any readers.
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I have thoughts, as you might expect, on global heating and Covid, but as I spent a year and a half on the latter and my last few posts have touched on the former, they can wait for another day. In the meantime, when I logged in here earlier and cleaned out the spam comment folder, I noticed that something has changed: the spam comments used to be almost entirely by porn bots but all of the ones I just deleted were for either blockchain or gambling.
The telly I watched most recently was the first two episodes of Foundation. Never has the prefix ‘based on the books by …’ been so apposite. I quite enjoyed the first episode, but was left disappointed by the second. No spoilers from me, but the writers clearly thought that adapting Asimov meant rewriting Asimov. Some of the changes are fine by me (I’m quite happy for Gaal Dornick and Salvor Hardin to be women), but mostly not (Dornick’s story veers sharply away from the original, as does Hari Seldon’s).
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