Achievements and resolutions

Many of my friends are posting some kind of summary of the writing they did during the last year and their plans for this.

In 2020 I published the final volumes in two fantasy series, and posted three auction fanfics and a Secret Santa one. I wrote a shorter story for a free Solstice treat, and started a novel in November, reaching a half way point before holiday celebrations took over my life. The poem is a snapshot of the chaos in my head during the year.

As I hope the poem explains, I reached a number of goals in 2020 and am now working on a novel about a found (fae) family on a quest. One of my resolutions is to write more – well, not exactly more but more regularly with some kind of discipline. Another is to post more often and keep you better informed.

My other resolution is not to acquire any more books, even free ones, till my to-be-read piles (one print, one digital) reach saner and less dangerous proportions.

Plot Bunnies of 2020

There were plot bunnies running round inside my head,

multiplying like, well, like rabbits, well fed,

careless of the environmental damage they might do.


my plot bunnies are orderly;

they take their turn, one by one by one,

or sometimes two by two,

waiting to see

which will be most beneficial,

taking my needs and plans

into account;

deferring, in other words,

to me.


One would sniff the air,

sensing its time was near,

swell and grow,

towering over the rest

who’d cower,

recognising their erstwhile friend

as bunny of the hour

who in the end

ruled the warren while I nurtured him,

turning him into a tale, groomed and finished;

ready to bound into the world, out of my head.


Time came and went.

I worked contentedly,

Polishing, editing, formatting, and then

casually throwing a carrot or two

into the warren.

A fae pair,

minor characters at best,

informed me that their story needed air

but, being a winter solstice tale could wait a year.

Even so,

I outlined everything,

wrote their first scene,

let their emotions sing,

even enjoyed watching the plot take shape,

knowing there was no haste.


Cop buddies, seeking a serial killer in the Caribbean,

showed promise,

likely to be full grown for Valentine’s Day

but had so much to say

their short sweet story threatened to become

a whole novella and was put aside

until sufficient time could be allotted

to do justice to their complex plot while they

did justice in their own inimitable way.


In February I offered fanfic, heedlessly.

The auctions were for such worthy charity

and there were bidders winning promises,

handing out brand new bunnies like largesse.

I had no cages, no carrots, and no

time but oh,

with eyes were so pleading and with coats so soft,

I could not let them go.


Aliens have their own intense appeal,

especially those

who find romance

with humans

or provide

reasons for those humans to boldly go

into the starry universe outside.

And so

I frantically sought

lettuce, cucumber and early grass

and watched those bunnies grow.


I built them cages in my mind,

hoping against hope

they’d keep themselves apart

in discrete clusters till I made a start.

They’d have to compete for water and nourishment

with princes, who, arranged marriage consummated,

assured me they could continue to hunt

unicorns until I had time to seek

their truth – but they had waited

long enough, did not deserve

to stand back for brash newcomers,

and would serve

to add structure to my time.


Quietly in the backmost cage a fae family

waited, thinking their time would, sooner or later, come.

But when the aliens moved in,

tails bobbing, paws scrabbling, I think those older bunnies

knew their orderly queued existence had been overrun.

And so, revolution in the rabbit house;

bucks and does alike, with supporting kits

broke from their cages, demanded more supplies,

invaded my dreams and grew before my eyes


They were running around my thoughts,

breeding, interbreeding, making more noise

than rabbits ought to make.

Sooner or later – probably sooner – I

would have to take a stand,

order them back in place,

ration the carrots and greens,

but just for a day or two,

for I was intrigued and watched

as they mixed, matched, bred

and now I had plot bunnies galore

running rings around my head.


A year passed. The princes are with my editor,

their first draft finished.

All auction fics were written, posted, gifted.

The minor fae,

a Solstice free novella, waited

for their polished chance to shine.

The fae family are well on their way

through an adventure that

involves a goblin, an elf, a talking bird

and a supercilious deaf cat.

The police pair slumber for now on their tropical sands


my head is quieter but I have to say,

I miss the now familiar racket and might just look

for new plot bunnies

who’d like to come out and play.

Sounds of winter: day 31

Auld lang syne is the traditional song for New Year’s Eve. It’s played here by The Royal Scots Dragoon Guards to the accompaniment of views of the Scottish scenery taken from across Scotland. Unless you are already in Scotland this will be as close as you get until the pandemic is over.

If you need the words, the poem by Robert Burns can be found here:

The picture is a doorway to a (locally made) chocolate shop in the Portuguese Christmas village. By the time it was dusk it was hard to get well lit photographs because of the LED lighting, but I still thought the decorations were beautiful. (See link on Day 28.) I loved this one, and thought it appropriate for the doorway into the new year. Let’s hope it’s a doorway to a better world for all of us.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my month of winter music.

Happy New Year Everybody! That’s for midnight tonight wherever you are!

Sounds of winter: day 30

Salva nos sung by the Mediaeval Baebes. (Pray for us, star of the sea and queen of the heavens.) I love the Mediaeval Baebes and they’re one group I have actually paid a lot to see live. I couldn’t decide which of their Christmas songs to choose (from their album Salva Nos) so I thought you could have two, today. 

Verbum Caro Factum Est (the word is made flesh) is also sung by them.

The photograph is of the main buildings of Manchester University which I attended; the building where I sat my exams and received my degree. This winter phtograph perfectly encapsulates the time I spent there – university terms are squeezed into the winter months, whereas summer, once exams are over, is for home and travel. I am still in touch with one or two of the people who were students with me. In those days we had smog as well as snow – it was before the Clean Air Acts. So my memories of the place from that time are much like this picture. I don’t live far away from it and of course nowadays I am used to its cleaned-up glory in much clearer weather. But today I imagine it looks just like this!

Sounds of winter: day 29

Walking in the air. Christmas probably wouldn’t be the same without The Snowman! The song is sung here by Peter Auty, from the original soundtrack, rather than by Aled Jones (though I do like Aled).  I hadn’t realised until recently that child and snowman ‘walk in the air’ above Brighton, where Briggs lived when he wrote the story. Howard Blake is the composer.

The picture is a photograph of a Christmas card I received a few years ago and loved. It was one of those cards that merely gave the publisher and not the artist or photographer so I have no idea whose work it is. It’s appropriate today because we woke up to a heavy fall of snow. I had these posts prepared in advance but swapped today’s and tomorrow’s around because of the snow! Our trees look exactly like the picture.

Sounds of winter: day 28

A spaceman came travelling by Chris de Burgh puts an interesting science fiction slant on the Christmas story. I chose this video because the combination of northern lights, religious pictures and space photographs seem to complement the song beautifully. I will never forget the impact of a sci fi story I read in which a wonderful civilisation was wiped out by the meteor that was, in our world, the Christmas star. It was in an anthology I have lost, and I can’t find it. If anyone knows it, please give me a link!

The star on the tree is from the Portuguese Christmas village. All their lighting is LEDs, including street lights, decorations, etc. This made photographing after dark somewhat difficult. The tree decorations, not really visible in this picture, are all natural objects: nuts, cones, woven rushes, etc. If you want to know more, visit:

Sounds of winter: day 27

Gaudete. I’ve heard a number of versions of this old song in Latin. The King’s Singers give it suitable gravitas. A translation of the first line, which is the most important, is Rejoice, for the Christ is born of the Virgin Mary.

The angel depicted in lights was in central Manchester one year. There were a few in different colours around Albert Square in front of the town hall, where the Christmas market is usually held. I haven’t been into the city centre this year but I know the Christmas market is drastically reduced in scale and the town hall is under refurbishment, so I can’t imagine it’s very festive in the square.

Sounds of winter: day 26 Heather Dale

Hunting the wren is sung by Heather Dale. Apparently this was a traditional ‘sport’ on the day after Christmas in parts of northern England, Wales and Ireland. Nowadays the ‘hunters’ are more akin to carol singers, going from house to house collecting money (for charity?) and perhaps mince pies or drinks. I believe they attach a bunch of feathers or something similar to a pole which they carry. I assume the custom is based on the old tradition of hunting actual birds. St Stephen’s Day or Boxing Day as the English call it is often marked by hunts of various kinds and nowadays drag hunting should be the norm in UK. The wren was regarded as ‘off limits’ the rest of the year.

The photograph is another from Windsor Great Park in winter.

Sounds of winter: day 25

Fairy tale of New York. This is the official version of the Pogue’s song. (Not the BBC’s edited one.)

The boys of the NYPD choir

Were singing ‘Galway Bay’

And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day

Happy Christmas everyone!

The pawprints are by nomnomicons. They remind me of Elizabeth Coatsworth’s poem On a Night of Snow :

It’s an odd kind of white Christmas here – heavy frost but no snow. Pretty, but extremely cold!

Sounds of winter: day 24

The Coventry Carol is not by any means joyful. It commemorates Herod’s slaying of the young boy children when the magi told him about the birth of Jesus. I wanted a version sung by women because I think female voices bring home the despair the mothers must have felt.  I knew the carol but first became truly aware of the lyrics when I heard the Mediaeval Baebes sing it. However, I already have them singing some other choices in this list so I went searching and found this acapella version by the Lamplighters. I think we need to remember that there are various layers to the Christmas story, not all a matter for celebration.

On a more cheerful note, if you’re in UK try to watch The Goes Wrong Show: The Nativity on BBC1 iPlayer. We laughed for the entire half hour.

The frosted rose is by roxicons.