Oh, hello there. It's almost been eleven months. So long that it took me quite some time to work out where the "update journal" section was these days. Apologies for the neglect. Just think of me as your absent fathers. Sure, you're lacking an important male influence in your young lives, but think of the Christmas presents!

I think a challenging MA is a fairly good excuse for my mostly-absence. I have completed a dissertation, a 14,000 word short story series that I have vague dreams of posting here, but it's such a lot to read. Moreover, I have lived and breathed it for such a long time that I think I need a cooling off period before I pick it up again. In lieu, please accept the occasional new stories and scraps I have shoved dup from time to time, including Snakehips, a story I started and finished this week alone, a surge of wilful creativity unseen for quite some time. Gosh!

There is not very much to say. I have participated in my first story reading, with "People Are Awful", which went very very well. "Blues" was published in exciting online arts magazine La Bouche. And, you know, Master's. With a bit of luck, before Christmas I should have my results and then I shall officially be your Master, and I EXPECT TO BE ADDRESSED AS SUCH.

(I didn't mean to type that last bit in capital letters, my computer has been badly misbehaving of late, but looking back, it is wildly appropriate, so it stays.)

I am still in London. It is exciting enough to hold my attention, and besides I have a lovely boy here still, and about as much chance of getting a job here than anywhere else (which is to say, nuh-uh, so let's say nothing at all). I have just returned for a God Help The Girl gig, where I spent quite a lot of time admiring Stevie Jackson's corderoy trousers and wondering if Belle and Sebastian have written a song for me yet. (I think - not sure - but I think "Photo Jenny" is about me. But I haven't managed to ask them so far.)

May all your puppies be cuddly and vivacious, but disinterested in attacking your shoes.

FYI, I'm tumbling sporadically: [link]

Hello hello all. I have been bewitched by the opportunity to have 6 Ls in my first sentence. Forgive me, I am only a creature of whim.

I hope everybody's having a lovely Christmas. I have been fortunate enough to log back on and find I have a Daily Deviation for Arthur Nobody, which is about as lovely and unexpected a thrill as a thrill ever is. So all praise and wonderful things to ^lovetodeviate for being so kind and making me very happy. Hooray!

Also thank you to the people who have read and commented and stuff on my story. It's really sweet and I never think I'm capable to expressing how amazing it is to get any kind of a response to stories you have written. I have been exceptionally fortunate during my time at DA to have meet such lovely people who read and comment and advise and inspire me frequently, and their insight is invaluable.

Anyway, I'm blathering. My beloved is in New York right now. He has been my most adored partner for two and a half years now, and my best friend for many more. All my luck is down to him, I think.

I'm still in London, still surviving, still perspiring (mostly that last one), but I'm home now for Christmas for another week or so. It's very nice to be home, if only to remind me how my cooking pales in comparison to my mum's.

In class, they want us to write stories and make lots and lots of money, and change the stories so that more people will like them so that we make even more money. Which is silly, because it's not what writers should be doing. Writers should be making beautiful things. Writers should make art.

Oh, hark at me not putting ellipses in my journal title.

Well, I'm not going anywhere but I sort of am. I'm going to London town tomorrow to learn to be a writer, which is probably the riskiest thing I've ever done (aside from when I cross roads; I'm not very good at that but also know no fear). In fact, the greatest risks I've ever taken all centre around my search for personal happiness, and damn the eyes of all others. I guess other people get hurt, but I suppose everyone does anyway.

So anyway. I thought maybe I should write a little something here considering that this page and all you people who visit it have contributed massively to the direction my life has taken. I think if I'd put up a few pieces and no one had paid any attention I might have given up or just forgotten instead of giving writing an earnest go, which is what's happening now. So I think I'm trying to say thank you.

Hopefully I'll get internet access asap but who knows when that shall be. I'm having all types of anti-virus naughtiness but this isn't the time or place for this.

So I'll be in London, or sort of in London, or a bit outside of London, so really I'll be being frightened and confused by the tube map and stabbed and things, at least, that's what I've read. All sounds a bit exciting. I know where the zoo is and I think that's the main thing.

I had hoped to put a story up before I went but it needs redrafted and is also 28 pages long so perhaps not.

Anyway. Be happy and I shall return soon. I'm good at returning.

Isn't "The Iceman Cometh" a great title? It's so dynamic. I've always been so terrible with titles. I mentioned in a phone interview about "Shrinky Dinc" and they laughed at me.

New York was a good place. Let us say nothing that the only museum I attended belonged to Ripley's Believe It Or Not (such sacrifices are demanded when travelling with family) and instead focus on how good Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum was (they have a stuffed albino giraffe, gosh!). But yes, it was lovely.

And I'm just back from London as well. I had a nice time, met nice people, saw nice things. We went to the zoo again where I saw my tapir and my tiny tortoises. I also saw a sloth.

Sloths are funny things. I have a friend who hates them, repulsed by their inherent laziness. I read somewhere that if a sloth falls out of a tree and lands in a clearing, it'll just lie there and starve to death rather try to crawl back to a tree. I don't know whether that's true. Then my boyfriend wondered how the babies get born. Maybe the mother positions herself over a branch (because they're always upside down) or something. The one thing I know for sure is that I don't know nature.

I love pick'n'mixes. They're not confectionary, they're not treats, they are sweeties. Lots of sweeties. And I ate them on the bus back from Dublin last night, and there was licorice allsorts and those coconut egg nest things (that I don't know the name of but they sort of look like a nest) and razzles and jazzles and lots of flumps. I discovered recently that nobody knows what I mean when I say flumps, until I elaborate by shouting the words "MARSHMALLOW FUN TIME" then they get the general idea.

I'm going back to university to do a masters I can ill afford, but it's moving on. I might learn, I might be good. No sloth falling out of a tree am I.

I have 20,000 words of a novel that kind of isn't good, but that's okay because I also have 15,000 words of another novel that could be good if only I could think of how to begin it.

Hello. Anyone up for some marshmallow fun time?

Listen to the Monkees. They were much better than their reputation suggests.

Has it really been so long? Almost a year. I guess I was so happy about the publishing thing that I was reluctant to change the front page journal, especially seeing life since has been so very dull.

In truth, I wouldn't let myself come near this place until I had something new to submit, which would explain why I have a hideous backlog of unanswered comments to work through (I feel awful for not replying sooner, they were well-read and greatly appreciated, I'm constantly flattered and humbled that anyone takes the time to read the stuff I write and for that I thank you all), which I plan to do sooner rather than later.

I wish I could explain the things I've been doing since I last wrote. I haven't really. There's been little worth commenting on, to the extent that I'm considering lying. I'm a good liar, you see, but generally I don't like. Honestly, I've been dull and working. I've been wrapping myself in far-flung kisses and holding hands across the oceans. You know. The usual.

I have been haphazardly writing, by which I mean both the frequency of the writing and the standard of the work.

I have also been watching good good films - The Darjeeling Ltd, Une Femme Est Une Femme, My Favourite Year, Lars and the Real Girl. I liked There Will Be Blood maybe for the wrong reasons, but very much. I listened to songs and sang along loudly and out of tune.

I have also learnt that the popular internet catchphrase DIAF ("to find death within the flames") does not translate well to real life and instead makes you seem like a sociopath.

On Monday I go to New York for a week. Will I adore it? I hope so.

Thank you for being good people. I like you very much.