2014 - Reflections on a year

So we stand on the verge of another collection of days that we shall group loosely into something we call 'months'.  Let's have twelve of them (the months, not the days) and let's call the whole shebang a 'year'.

Yes, it's not New Year's Eve yet (that particular delight comes tomorrow) but as I shall be spending the majority of tomorrow 'out' having that 'social life' that I always dreamed of, I thought now would be as good a time as any for a reflection on the last twelve months, and some musings on the twelve months to come.

2014 - the Good Parts

It was an interesting year.  After the slow start towards the end of 2013 with the whole 'giving up working for other people' schtick and setting out on my own, I got up a bit of speed.  I did some marketing work, some admin work and some writing and editing.  At one point, I even managed nearly a whole month writing a thousand words a day (micro short stories on any subject that took my fancy).

I saw the Greatest Movie in The World Ever (TM) in Guardians of the Galaxy.  Eight times.  In three different cinemas in three completely different parts of the country, across two different formats.  All joking aside, here was a movie that made me fall in love with the whole process of creating. I can listen or read for hours about how this movie was made, what different elements went into the casting, the set design, every little bit of the minutiae.  Most importantly, it inspired me to write two shorts, and there are more writhing around in my brain meat like elusive maggots, waiting to be bagged and tagged on the page.

I was accepted into two different fiction anthologies, both to be published next year.  One was 'weird' fiction, (Reflections by Fox Spirit) so I wrote a correspondingly weird story for it. The other was horror (Chip Shop Horrors by Knightwatch Press) - not my natural comfort zone - so I wrote something horrific for it.  Apparently, both ploys worked, so look out for them in 2015.

I wrote acres of stuff for Mantic Games - background (a.k.a 'fluff') for three different universes/settings, including Topps' Mars Attacks universe.  I have lots more to carry on writing, and editing.  I met many writers over the course of editing an anthology, and making the difficult decisions of who to admit and who to turn away.  All were generous and kind to a fault about the whole thing, whether I was delivering good or bad news, making me believe that all are barking very much up the right tree (metaphorically speaking  stick with me here).

I got name-checked in the acknowledgements of three different novels, two of which were just for READING THINGS AND OFFERING OPINIONS.  Considering the two authors in question, that alone was enough to make me go all googly.  That they had asked my opinions at all was staggering enough.  That they were grateful enough for them to acknowledge them in public just sent me dribbly.  And one of them (he knows who he is) almost literally broke my will to even try sitting at a keyboard again thanks to how ridiculously cleverly plotted his stuff was.  I powered through it, but only just, so thanks John ;)

I travelled a far amount this year too, and made new and exciting friends who helped me in so many ways.  My health is improving, and more importantly my awareness of it is improving.  My belief in my own abilities grew just that little bit.  I SOCIALISED more in this one year than I think I had in the last ten.  I went to the theatre, I went to events, I met new people, I even ATE IN PUBLIC.  Truly, 2014 was a year of craziness. So thanks also to Arti, Medhia, Snarf (don't ask), Rupa, Pete, Ruth, Simon, Paul, Sue, Phil, Tim, Nikki, Liam, Ross and so many others that I can't even count. You're all wonderful.

2014 - the not so good parts

Any who have followed this blog since its inception will be aware that 2014 sucked in one big giant way.  My cousin Terry was taken away from the world far too early when he contracted bacterial meningitis which killed him in a matter of hours.  I could (and probably in future will) fill endless pages with just how good a person Terry was, how much he is missed by all who knew and loved him, and how much I regret having taken for granted that he would always be around.  Various factors throughout the span of my life contributed to ensure that Terry and I were not as well acquainted as I would like us to have been.  But I knew him enough to know the most important truths about him.  He was unfailingly kind and generous of spirit.  He was always practical, ready to find the solution to any problem.  He was loyal and patient.  He was incredibly hard working.  He never accepted any limit that the world tried to impose on him.  And he loved his wife more than anything else in the world.  It is often said in this cynical age of ours that of course people only speak well of the dead.  In Terry's case, it is genuinely because there is no ill to speak of, and nor was there ever.  In thirty years of life, I don't believe that he ever did or said one bad, selfish or unkind thing.  As I stare down the barrel of my thirty-fifth year on the planet, I can think of no finer example to follow, and I will always do my best to keep Terry in mind, wherever I am and whatever I do.

It was also a difficult year for others in my life.  My father in law, now 83, had a year of health hiccups, from his minor heart attack in May (or 'Episode of attention-seeking fakery', as we prefer to call it when he and I speak of the matter) to a suspected minor stroke shorty after Terry's passing, and the odd funny turn along the way.  Thanks to the attentions of a good GP friend, we were able to get him precisely the medical attention and investigation that he needed, which surprisingly confirmed that for his age, he's actually not in bad shape at all.  Long may that continue.

My own father managed to fall off a stepladder and do himself a fairly serious injury, smashing his shoulder into lots and lots of tiny pieces.  Some twenty-odd years younger than my father in law he may be, but I still think he should be banned from climbing any more ladders.  He disagrees, and thus the debate continues.  Needless to say, I think I'm right (but then when isn't that the case?)  Regardless, he is now a real life bionic man, with a titanium plate and several screws holding the various disparate parts of bone remaining in his shoulder together.  I am reliably informed that he will not set off airport alarms, but he will likely feel the cold more keenly in winter.  Maybe that'll remind him not to climb any more bloody ladders...

I have watched several friends struggle this year, with varying degrees of severity.  Depression is a word that gets thrown around all too freely in our supposedly all-knowing society, and covers a variety of shades from feeling a little down to wanting to just throw oneself off a bridge.  Fortunately, the ones I care for who face these issues have not gotten as far as the latter, though they are quite a way removed from the former.  I hope that I have been of some comfort to them in the dark times, and that I can look forward to sharing with them lots of brighter ones in the year to come.  If they are reading this at all, they know who they are, and hopefully they equally know that I am here for them as ever.

As to me.  It's been a year in which I have faced many challenges.  From the mundane (filling out my tax return and earning money) to the extreme (bereavement, growing up more, taking responsibility for things I had never really considered before) I think I have been more fundamentally altered by these last twelve months than by the preceding twelve years.  Life is a journey (and other such chocolate box cliches), and I am always fascinated by those moments when one becomes aware of it.  There have been a lot more of those for me this year, and I can only hope that they will have made me into a better person.

Most of all, I have learned that life is precious, and not to be taken for granted.  For whatever reason, I find myself blessed enough to be able to create words that others deem good enough to be paid for. That was my dream for so many years, and the danger there is that once you have achieved your dream, it is too easy to rest on your laurels and assume that the journey is done.  Too often this year, I have spoken about writing rather than doing it.  Too many times, I have been seduced by the idea of having been accepted for publication, rather than focusing on the next step on the journey. Yes, I am of a standard right now where I can get published and noticed.  But now is the time to improve upon that standard and get noticed more.  Now is the time to stop looking at things I watch and read and listen to, saying 'I could do better', and to actually put pen to paper and fingers to keys and DO IT.  It's an almighty cliche to be saying all these things on New Year's Eve of course (or even on the day before) but there we go - I cannot help the serendipity of timing any more than I can go back and alter the last 52 weeks in any way, much as I may like to.

I was going to say that I hoped that 2015 would be a better year.  I think that's a natural enough reaction in the wake of so much illness, death and sadness.  It would be a bigger cliche to sit here and sigh that this is just a sign of getting older - one more thing we must accept as we shuffle mercilessly onwards towards that gentleman with the scythe, waiting to keep his inevitable appointment with us all.

So I will say this: I hope that the changes wrought on me - good and bad - by the last 365 days, enable me to face the next 8,760 hours with enough grace, dignity and positivity that I shall be able to sit here 525,600 minutes from now reflecting on a year well-spent.

In the meantime, I hope that anyone who cares to read this has an absolutely amazing New Years, wherever and with whomever you spend it, and that the coming 31,536,000 seconds give you all that you work for.

Thanks

G