I've just submitted my Hugo nominations. The process is fairly embarrassing. Entering the nominations, I realised that in some categories (novellas and novellettes) I could only think of a single story to nominate. Novels weren't much better, where I only managed three nominations. I *think* I read a reasonable amount, but either it doesn't stick in my mind, or I don't read as much (good stuff) as I think I do. Only in short stories did I manage to nominate a full slate of what I think were great stories. I'm resolving to try harder this year to actually make a note of the stories I like.

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We went on a shopping expedition a few days ago around all the charity shops in Morley (small, somewhat decrepit town outside Leeds) and I managed to come away with a pretty good work outfit. A really nice blue sweater that actually looks good on me (and makes me look slimmer), a pair of comfortable work trousers, and a good shirt. It all (remarkably) matches, and I'm not clashing at all, unlike normally.

I detest shopping for clothes. This expedition was relatively painless and very cheap, and that's me done for another year. Yes!

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Writing is on a roll at the moment. Another couple of handwritten pages on The Sleepers this morning, and I think the end might be in sight. There is a bit undefined block, I think, before the end, and I'll need to sit down and really figure it out, but I've set up almost everything I need to in order to have the big showdown/resolution. Don't know what happens in that big showdown/resolution, but it'll happen, at least.

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It occurs to me that the title of this entry doesn't make any sense anymore. This is because it referred to a section of the entry that I deleted straight away. Some things are best not said, at least not in public... Couldn't think of another title though.