For me, 2026 is the year of clouds.

Ever-changing, always moving, many colours. Changeable. They can be both pillows of light and heralds of stormy doom. Seems fitting for a year where I’m dedicated to learning how to be calm again, and to enjoy being calm, while acknowledging that there’s a LOT going on beneath the surface.

Hidden poems in the clouds

Last year was hard work. A lot of life things, big changes for both my young children, work ups and downs, events events events, and – of course – drafting.

And waiting. Lots of waiting.

Now, my agent will attest to me not being the best at waiting. In truth, I go a little crazy. I hide this, of course, and unleash everything that’s pent-up to those who know me really well (sorry, long-suffering agent Ed!) but that’s nothing unusual.

I did a LOT of writing last year. I finished a manuscript (hooray!) and it should be submitted to publishers in the coming weeks. I’m looking forward to hearing what all the editors out there think – they’ve all been so lovely with me so far. I just hope something in it sparks their imaginations.

In the meantime, I’ve been doing more writing. That’s right, more! I have three other projects on the go, all of them started in 2024 or 2025. In truth, I felt a little burnt-out at the end of last year, so took a break from my current novel WIP. I’d just submitted final edits on the SEA BOOK and I’d worked so hard to get it in the best shape it could be.

Hiding

But as it’s me, I didn’t rest for long. I simply switched to another WIP, a poetry collaboration that is so utterly different to my fiction that it was like tasting the forbidden fruit. Just wonderful. I made quite a lot of progress on that, before switching back to the novel this month. It was the perfect break – just long enough to keep me in that fictional world but allow me to step back and get a little perspective on the whole thing. I’m working on the second draft now, and am changing A LOT. It can be difficult to thing you’ve written tens of thousands of words which you’re essentially binning, but that’s only half the story. It’s more like recycling. Every word of my first draft has helped me with this revised second draft. It’s alchemy. The same thing happened with Mothtown. I rewrote that book three times before it took its current shape. That’s just how it goes sometimes.

In my pursuit of cloud-like calm, I’m trying not to set myself the harsh targets that I usually do. I love a schedule and a deadline, and usually split the year into chunks to work on various different things. But I’ve learned from my burn-out, and life is too rich, too full, for me to push myself like that. I know I need to step back in order to see the light – and so I’m going to do it more often. I’ve started keeping a diary again, something I did for years before I got bored of staring at my own navel. I’ve been knitting what feels like a bazillion scarves. I’ve picked up watercolours again, something I do every couple of years since I was a teenager, though I actually think I’m getting worse at it, rather than better.

And, until I know the fate of the mysterious SEA BOOK, I’ll keep working on my new novel. My loose goal (see, I say goal rather than aim!) is to finish it by the end of 2026, which is a perfectly reasonable goal. If I’m lucky, there’ll even be a gap or two to dip my head into my two other projects, too.

Ever-growing

Aside from that, I’ve got a few events lined up so far. A few Instagram Lives, a potential Waterstones panel, and I’ll be attending FantasyCon in Glasgow at the end of the year. Plenty more will happen but let’s leave that to the fates, eh?

I don’t often journal like this anymore, but perhaps I should. 😊 I hope you’re all well, and thriving in 2026 so far (despite the world falling apart, but that’s another story).

Take care,

C.xx