Going on the wagon

Have decided to forgo the pleasures of my old boon companion Al Cohol for a while, as he's tending to get in the way of the creative process. One MSS has been completed and despatched for consideration this year and I'm busy on the follow up, so have elected to keep a clear head while I plough on with the narrative. If you aren't so hot on keeping notes like me, keeping a fictional world neatly juggled between your frontal lobes is much easier without chemical intervention.

Not that I'm a great drinker, to be honest, since I came to Canada my consumption of such beverages has dropped off the edge of the proverbial cliff. There's just not the need for a large glass of wine after the frustrations of the working day any more. Despite all the shenanigans with Wife's Ex, putting together the immigration documents, Mrs S's occasional bouts of guilt over the girls, as well as the struggles with permits and stuff, I just don't want the booze so much any more.

At present there's also what I call the 'post submission blues', which is the 'did I do a good enough job' meme that can play around your head like a maddening tune that you can't shut up. All you can do is get your head down and say "Ah stuff it". To quote another bloke called Bill:

Jog on, jog on the footpath way and merrily hent the stile-a
Your merry heart goes all the day, your sad tires in a mile-a