The phrase ‘End of An Era’ is so overused don’t you think? You hear it every time someone retires or moves home or signs for another football club or changes their underwear. Well, maybe that last one is just me. But you must admit it is beaten soundly to death in this day and age. The phrase I mean, not my underwear.

But…

I’m going to use it right now, for truly, in my own life, an era has drawn to an end.

Yes, I’m talking about my sodding podcast, I just wanted to be a tad verbose about it.

For the Blessham Hall podcast is no more dear reader. I’ve called temps as the French might say and brought down the curtain on that fine old institution. If 96 episodes can indeed be called an institution. Probably not.

What could be the cause of such drastic action? Well, in a word, downloads. They were dwindling rapidly at such an alarming rate that they made the Wall Street Crash look like a child’s broken piggy bank. They went from approximately 40 a week to barely half a dozen, and that’s across three different platforms.

So in the end it wasn’t really a hard or heart wrenching decision to make. We had a good run but let’s leave it at that. Onwards to bigger and brighter things etc etc.

And, if truth be told, I wasn’t enjoying the process any more. It had become stale and something of an irritant to me (and my listeners if stats are anything to go by) and I began to think that my energies (of which I have very little) would be much better spent elsewhere.

That was two weeks ago…

And in between I’ve done bugger all.

No work on the WIP, no blogging, no promo or marketing… heck, I haven’t even sent copies of Vole out to my beta readers yet. Just sat on my expansive, hairy arse for two weeks feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t even muster the energy to write in my diary for six days on the trot and then spent over two hours trying to catch up with the damn thing until my wrist ached like I’d come last in the World Chinese Burns Finals.

You may recall one of my most recent blog posts before all this stating that I felt like a burnt out wreck. Well, even burnt out wrecks are covered by insurance and the guarantee of some return. I on the other hand have been more like a fallen apple that the wasps have had a right good go at. Neither use nor bloody ornament to anyone. Except the wasps.

I think I did need a break though. Writing Vole, my most challenging book yet, in the midst of a ton of personal upheaval and ill health had left me at self-destruction point and beginning the next (Joe Wilkie) novel so soon after was as foolhardy as it comes.

However…

I’ve had a rest and some recouperation and I now feel ready to pull on the gloves and get back in the literary ring, so to speak. Yes, two weeks of lie-ins, espousal lunches, red wine, reading and couch crashing has left me feeling much better and in a frame of mind where I feel I can now begin again.

Enough buggering about Stevenson, I’ve told myself, it’s time to get on with the one and only thing you’re half good at and that’s writing. So on Monday the current WIP (work in progress, remember?) will be reopened and yours truly will pick up from where he left off with renewed vigour.

I do like that word – vigour! Sounds so dynamic.

But in order to avoid such a catastrophic crash and burn again I’ve set myself a target. 1,350 words a day for 60 days. If I manage to do more per day then all well and good but I’m going to do my damnedest to not do less. That will leave me time for other things such as blogging, marketing and so forth. It’ll also mean that I won’t tax my rubbish health too much either.

As for the podcast, well, never say never is my motto so I’d like to think that I’ll return to the microphone soon with something fresh and innovative. Until then, you can still buy any of my books from Amazon and give yourself the chortle you deserve.