Yes — Christmas turns out to be an excellent pivot for fiction of all kinds.

“The Cat of the Dovrefjell”.

It’s very good. I also read the two-page Norwegian folktale about trolls that follows, that has the same rhythm as a playground joke.

I read about half of it last year because I started it too late. I’ll read a story a day to begin with, then speed up in the week before Christmas.

Today's vinyl is Anthology 1. Musically easily the weakest of the three original Anthologies, and the one most like a history lesson (it's *astounding* this made number two on the charts and went octuple platinum given the first quarter is basically some teenagers pissing about with a tape recorder)

She’s too pure for the world.

And it didn’t take much to kill it, did it? Just ignore it and it immediately doesn’t exist.

I had an epiphany this week when I saw another agent announce a six figure deal for a 25-year-old client who writes romantasy. Both of those things — the age and the genre — are equally beyond me, so who am I kidding?