The week after

So, we didn't win, kuñardocz. I say we, and really I mean the esteemed author, you know, the one with the talent. The rest of us are but remoras, but we were, and are, remoras with vision. We have his backlist, so there's a happiness in that, and he's a nice, nice man, which is a relief, if I'm being honest.

The party, you ask? The party, to use a cute Britism, was ace. I don't need to tell you about it because this upbeat Kiwi reporter has done it in their national press - have a look. Most of us nursed the Booker of all hangovers, with fresher-like side effects and inefficiency to beat the band all the next day.

But we have moved on! Both Chinatown and Foolish Mortals pieces finally came out, though not in my preferred form, the mice made a disappearance, and some fun was had with friends and visitors, some of which involved takoyaki. Stellou of the East, well versed in these things, swore blind that these were octopus balls, and yes, it was normal that they still be moving. She swears that this has something to do with bonito flakes dancing in the heat, but she's clearly not to be trusted. Me, I think it was tentacles, but hey, I ate them anyway.

Aside from such minor concerns, I've been plotting for the future. I'm thinking of setting up an international, multilingual publishing services agency in the relatively near future, for which I'm seeking advice, requests for types of services needed, freelancers looking for work, that sort of thing. I've received some good feedback so far, and I'm planning to have a bit of a planning sesh soon. If you're interested and I haven't been in touch with you already, please do comment here and we can chat.

That said, I must stress that this plan is not going to be put into effect now; we're talking a year or two from now. Meanwhile, I have reason to believe that my working life will change rather dramatically, so I won't do anything but put the wheels in motion for the agency plan quite yet.