For tortoises

It has all been a bit hectic recently, with people's birthdays amid a leviathan of work. The best mate, whose birthday it was on Saturday, tells me I look pretty crappy and so I've planned a morning off. He also bought me my very own spongmonkey, which was swiftly claimed by the cat.

Have a story to finish and a script to edit, two websites to rebuild and a proposal to make sexy, a new encyclopedic gig and some additional need from the regular employment.

In the meantime, I've had a novel rejected after providing extended synopses (though my friend S. has been commissioned, so hooray), and I've agreed some decisions that will radically change my working life in a few months' time. There might be some sort of announcement round then, so I shall keep it now.

And then there's two projects that I'm keen to make happen though they both face impossible odds. They are begun and I merely await the lashing of the Fates.

It would help if I could get this all done by the end of January as then I've got the new writing competition to co-mark. 282 x 2,500 words in already. Will give up sleeping for Lent.