I think I've finally learned to stop worrying about how big the gaps are between my novels' publication.

I decided to read something I normally hate: a cosy mystery. You know one of those mysteries where everything is tidily wrapped up at the end and everyone lives happily ever after? An Agatha Christie kind of mystery. They are so not my thing. But then someone was raving about Barbara Neely's Blanche White books and they sounded interesting.

Lungs, they do not like to be messed with. I give pneumonia one star and that's for the silent p.

I spent the year behind on deadlines and everything else. It's only now in December that I feel even slightly caught up. 2016 has to be better.

Zombies are the proletariat. Long live the workers!

The acclaim for Razorhurst means even more to me than usual because, let's be honest, Razorhurst is weird.

The only reason I've ever had to wear a hat is to avoid skin cancer.