I would like to take my mind out of my head and give it a good, soapy scrub. It's not that I want to be a different person, but I'd like to become the man I could have been.

I would like to wish my friends a happy Christmas, and an especially happy Christmas to those friends I have yet to meet. Oh, and a really nice new year, though that's unlikely. Thanks, George.

Meanwhile, nothing quite lifts the spirits like attending Norwich's epic 4-1 thumping of Ipswich, then later settling down with a bottle of white wine to watch England whack the Aussies all over the park. Still no job, though I had a very good interview for a post at a local housing association last week. I've not heard back from them yet, so I'm ( Read more... )

Job-seeking is bad enough, but there's nothing quite like online dating to instil in you the sheer bone-aching hopelessness of existence, is there?

Off we go again. I've sent off a cheque and application for a correspondence course in Copy-editing and proofreading, in the hope of forging a new career in this field. If I can't be a writer, the least I can do is interfere in the writing of others. I'm also investigating courses in Photoshop, Publisher and Word Advanced, to broaden my palette as ( Read more... )

My quest to find some way of gainfully occupying the rest of my existence continues at its usual slow pace. This week, I did something particularly absurd and applied for a job in London, a Data Research post at no less a place than the dear old Guardian. As a can't so much as secure an interview for basic administration posts at the NHS, and lack ( Read more... )

A tough weekend ahead - on Sunday, the annual eclipse of my birthday is doubly darkened with England playing Germany in the World Cup, a horror only cushioned by the idea that according to Doctor Who, the universe is due to end on Saturday June 26th, rendering both my birthday and international kickball competitions on a grotty planet in the ( Read more... )

I've not written or read a word of fiction since the last set of rejections came though; Ulysses, Little Dorrit and The Little Friend sit unread on my bedside cabinet, while my own wan and whey-faced work remains half-finished. I can't even read about books or look through the Guardian Review section. Maybe I'll do a MA course next year, or apply ( Read more... )

OK, so I received a letter from the UEA this morning. And I haven't made it onto the MA course. In fact, I didn't even make it to the interview stage. And in the same post, I received another rejection for the novel from an agency, the novel I hoped to complete during the MA course. OK ( Read more... )

I've decided to apply for the Creative Writing MA and as the deadline is the end of the month, I've spent most of the week preparing my application, hindered by my laptop's admission into computer hospital again today. If I'm rejected (something I'm quite used to) then I'll try to gen onto the Studies in Fiction MA, for which the deadline isn't ( Read more... )