There’s so much pressure on January, as the first month of the year: resolutions, intentions for the next twelve months, setting the mood and tone…so I like to wait until the end of the month to reflect and plan. Not sure I’m fooling January, but I’m tricking my mind into replacing aspirational expectations with manageable ones. In writing terms, the move from 2022-2023, feels like a specific transition. Last autumn I was offered a book deal - and with everything else that was going on, I never - until now - got to mentioning it. Actually, it's a two-book deal from a very well-established and well-respected independent press. The novels is question are both written, both won awards, but sat quietly in the wings, clearly waiting for their moment! Don’t give up, people said. It just takes one agent or editor, they went on. Look at JK Rowling, Stephen King, Agatha...

The very best of festive wishes to everyone out there: wherever you are and whatever you celebrate, do so with mindfulness and a sense of fun! And if you're a writer, remember that...

Last month I was preparing for my return to Bangladesh and Bhola's Children. This month it's a flash of a - fantastic - memory, that's allowed me to reconnect with everyone and everything that's important out there.

After six long years, I'm en route back to Bangladesh, and the island of Bhola. Back in 2001 (yep, 21st Anniversary!) it's where my writing really took off, eventually leading to setting up Bhola's Children, So, this month, I'm cheating: a while ago I wrote a comic (hopefully) piece of flash fiction for a travel guide...here it is: Bangladesh?  Why? When Jennifer Lightfoot’s granddad won her a dream holiday in the local newspaper, she was unbearable:             ‘You’ll never guess where we’re going,” she crowed.  “You’ll never guess because it’s really erotic–‘(she was ten; she probably meant exotic.  Then again, given her later career choices, perhaps not).             She gave me a clue as the Mini-Traveller pulled off with the whole family squashed in, goggle-eyed.  ‘It begins with H and ends in N,’ she yelled.  ‘Ha-ha!  I bet you’ll never go anywhere I can’t guess…’             Thirty years on, Jennifer Lightfoot...

On Friday night, I had dinner with Sir Ian Rankin and Robert Aldridge, The Rt. Hon. Lord Provost of Edinburgh. For someone more likely to be found eating toast in front of the telly by 9pm, this might well have been the peak of my writing career.