It’s my mother’s birthday this weekend, and while I’m not inclined to disclose her actual age, suffice to say that it’s one of the numbers where you generally get together and celebrate a little harder than usual. It also means that I’m back on the Gold Coast for 48 hours, although I made some smarter choices about coming down this time and I’m therefore somewhat more sanguine than I was last time I arrived down here.
At the same time as I’m down here, my brain is mentally marking off the last days of my holiday from the dayjob. Part of me is really happy about this, ’cause I kinda miss catching up with my work colleagues by this point, but I’m also going to miss the writing time. In the two weeks I’ve had off, incorporating both Xmas, New Years, and at least one birthday celebration thus far, I’ve managed to clock up over 8000 words of short fiction and 14,000 words on the novel I’m trying to get done by March.
Slowly, very slowly, I’m remembering how this writing thing goes. More importantly, I’ve finally dropped into a routine that’s working for and gets shit done.
With that, I’ve gotta go get ready for tonight’s celebration. It’s time to feast, yo. This actually involves going out *into* the Gold Coast, rather than hanging around my parents place, which means my good mood could potentially evaporate. I mean, we’re going near a beach and everything.
If you haven’t heard from me within 48, assume I’m trapped down here and please send help.
Or nuke the place from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.