It is Now Current Year Again: A 2017 Wrap-Up

Can you believe it’s 2018? Well it is, and you’re not the only one amazed at the passage of time. I think this tweet from 2016 sums it up perfectly:

2017 was the year where people talked about Donald Trump, compared 2017 to 2016, and Hollywood was finally able to get itself back into the headlines, albeit for all the wrong reasons. We lost a whole slew of  celebrities such as Roger Moore, Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington, Adam West, John Hurt, George Romero, and Dexter composer Daniel Licht. Prince Harry got engaged. There were far too many lives lost to both international and domestic terrorists. Donald Trump held glasses of water and it was reported as Breaking News around the world. People complained. People were happy. People were sad. It was yet another year.

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It’s Time for [insert current year] to become [new insert current year]!

2017As the current year finishes and we move into the New Year, I yet again question how quickly the year has passed. I’m now up to my fourth New Year, New Me blog post in the many years I’ve been irregularly updating you with tidbits of my life, writing tips and more.

2016 was the year for people to say “It’s the current year”! I heard it used everywhere, mainly in political, social justice and general infotainment circles. “We’re not neanderthals,” we said, despite neanderthals not being akin to cavemen like everyone thinks. “It’s 2016. We should be civilised!” Far too many celebrities and normal folk have passed on this year—the saddest for me being Alan Rickman and Carrie Fisher. But I digress. In a few hours—for Australians at least—we’re moving onto the new Current Year, 2017. So, thankfully for many people, 2016 is almost over!

Looking back on my 2016, I didn’t have any novels published, but I did spend much of my time honing query letters, sending out submissions to short story journals, publishing houses and agents alike. I kept up a steady stream of blog posts, with my most popular one being this one from February, in which I critiqued the mass media and its role in a certain anti-gamers movement. I also did succeed in my goal of reading more. In 2014, I read only four and a half books. In 2015, that went up to nine books. I know, for a writer, I don’t read an honest lot. I’m trying to improve that. Rereading the Harry Potter series yet again doesn’t count. However, this year I got up to a record 13 books, which I know isn’t a lot to most readers, but is a record for me to be proud of. I’m nowhere near reading as much as I did back when I was a kid and read most of the 50-something Animorphs books, plus all the prequels and sequels and choose-your-own-adventures, over the course of a few years. I didn’t review all of them across the year, so here’s a quick round-up of my Books of 2016:


Stack of Books 2.0, Current Year Edition

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New Year, New Me—It Must Be That Time of Year Again!

2016Woah, can you believe it—2015 is almost over! I feel like I’m constantly reiterating this point come December 31st every year, but it really is true. Maybe, now that I’m older (well, I’m still in my twenties, so not that old), the rose-tinted glasses aren’t holding me back in a whirlwind of Back-in-my-day-things-were-better’s and a lack of adult worries like paying bills, filing tax returns and actually looking forward to sleeping. But, that’s not the point of this blog post. Wow, am I forever saying that.

Just briefly glancing over last year’s New Year’s Eve post, I can already see that I’m starting to repeat myself. But, hey, at least I’m not telling you about how 2016 should be the Year of You and why you should change your love life, writer’s life, clutterfilled life, until your life is basically redefined and you’re in an alternate universe where life is spelled “feil”—oh, wait…

2015 was a year where I finished my novel, watched a lot of TV show box-sets, ticked off movies on my constantly-growing to-watch list, and focused on getting myself into a regular writing routine once again after writer’s block attacked me full force in 2013-14 and turned into a masquerading monster that blocked any and all ability to write anything meaningful (bad fanfictions don’t count).

As I mentioned last month, I set myself the goal of reading a book a month which, suffice to say, was a failure. Not a complete and utter failure, like your attempt to stay level-headed at the Boxing Day (i.e. Black Friday) sales and not buy everything in sight or your disastrous attempt not to go mad as Christmastime loomed its ugly head at you like the biggest cliche out there. This isn’t for a lack of trying, since I was pottering ahead wonderfully until that all-important month September loomed at me brightly, and I picked one of the many unread books up from my bookshelf and went; “I should read Lolita.” It’s probably a Just Bookworm Things cliche, but I feel incredibly guilty if I just give up on a book. I mean, not all books, since I did struggle through the second Fifty Shades before simply accepting that I could read no more emotional abuse fanfic. But hey, I thought Lolita would be different. It’s a classic. My creative writing teacher at uni was utterly obsessed with it, compelling me to want to read it. If I’d gotten through that awful mouse-cheese scene in American Psycho, I could definitely get through this. 128 pages and a month and a half later, and I had to concede defeat—this book just wasn’t for me. And yet I still think I’ll finish it one day.

Anyway, I did manage to get through some other books in this wonderful year twenty-fifteen. You want a good book recommendation? Some of these probably aren’t for you, then:

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