The relapse continues. Combined with Brexit and Trump, my health has convinced me that it’s my time to retire as an author.
I’ve been too ill this entire year to write much or to participate in online activism, which is as much me as writing is. I’ll be 60 in January, and I want to curl up by the fire and live out the rest of my years in peace and quiet. The fact that I’m so peaceful about the notion tells me it’s probably okay.
A friend asked if I’ve written enough. I don’t know. But I think The Honesty of Tigers is the best book I’ve written, and that it’s unlikely I’ll write anything better. I’ve reached the summit of my ambition and will retire in the knowledge that I’ve done what I set out to do.
More significantly, under the near impossible weight of my chronic health condition, I don’t feel adequate to write anything that will matter in the context of the world events we’re facing this year and in the future.
I have four more titles to release in 2017, including the indie re-release of my novels A Flight of Thieves and Gifted, but I don’t imagine I will write anything new.
For several years now I’ve had an uncomfortable relationship with Remembrance Day. The normal thing. While pausing to remember innocents slaughtered in wars, and also several friends of mine who died while (or after) I was serving, I deplore the British arms industry and their politician puppets, and I despise the political fetishism that’s taken over Remembrance Day and turned it into Remembrance Month.
My highest/lowest point was attending a local service in a wheelchair with a white poppy pinned above my medals. Seemed a good idea beforehand, but even during the ceremony I decided it was prima donna-ish of me.
Also, I have no respect for the British Legion. So.
Today, at eleven o’clock, I went online and joined Veterans For Peace. That’s better.
Not feeling better, exactly. Just not feeling quite so deathly as I have been for weeks. This past four or five evenings, I could have written a bit. I didn’t, because I’m being super cautious and don’t want to sabotage or delay the recovery that I hope is coming.
So, still getting battered, but I’m hopeful.
And yesterday I had a phone call from Chris, who is one of my oldest and dearest friends. He’d just finished reading The Honesty of Tigers and wanted to tell me he loved it. #heartwarm 🙂