The Motion of the Stars is out, complete with the proofreading of Danger Beans. Major props to them. It's been submitted to the Most Dangerous Game Contest, and seeing how it'll do (especially up against some of the damned respectable competition I've seen so far) will be interesting. My writing tastes usually run towards the comically dark or darkly comedic, and something with more of an attempted poignant edge was a fun step out of

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By way of preamble, have a vaguely relevant Scandinavia and the World.

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T'is the sixth today, and thus by tradition, we must purge all Christmas cheer from the world once more. Let the somber cubicorn assist in snuffing out whatever joy remains in your hearts.

But enough about the drawn-out death of the festive season. News - and a request - (and also a pretty picture because you're all worth it) below this fancy page break function.

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So there I was, sitting down and writing away at Stopped Clock and planning out more of The Devil's Details, feeling productive and virtuous. Progress was being made in chapters, characters were being blithely tortured, a reasonable writing speed on current projects was being maintained. Everything was lovely.

Then I discovered that The More Most Dangerous Game existed.

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Merry Christmas Eve/Pre-Sol Invictus/Mōdraniht/(insert winter holiday of preference here) to one and all of my followers and whoever may randomly stumble across this. May the rest of the day treat you all kindly, the following day even kindlier, and may the inevitable Boxing Day hangover be kindest of all.

Don't forget to rock out to the best song of the season, while you're at it.

Introducing the all-new, jolly, festive, cranially-enhanced Santa-hatted cubicorn! You too can join the cool crowd.

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Me: Alright, several things to try and juggle here. First things first, I'm committed to that new time travel story I've planned out. Twilight and future-assassins and comedy romps all round. Maybe I'll even come with a title for it before the next glacial aeon, once I can get the opening chapter the way I want it. Something's just not clicking in it just now.
My Scumbag Brain: Mm hmm.

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Behold, my nation's national animal.

England: So what animal are you guys thinking of adopting? I might go for a lion, myself.
Scotland: Unicorn.
England: Is ... is that allowed? I'm pretty sure that's not -
Scotland: Fucking unicorn.

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I did a thing. Check it out if you're so inclined.

It was a surprise getting that initial PM asking me if I'd be inclined to do an interview, and an honour as well. My gratitude to the RCL team.

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Not even slightly pony- or writing-related, for which I apologise.

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