It's the dirty story of a dirty man and his clinging wife doesn't understand

 I've got a new book coming out. 

It's a new book, after my next new book. So I have two new books coming out then. The next book, a novel, is called How Ghosts Affect Relationships, and will be out in March of 2027. The book after that is about growing older and is not a novel. It's called Old World and will be out in April 2028. 

That will be five books since 2024. Five books in four years, and I don't have anything coming out this year. I mean, it's nice grouping. It's a certain evidence of industry. And, though I say it myself, the books are getting better. But there's so much more I want to do. 

2028 is still two years away. At the moment that feels like a long time in the future. Everything in the world seems to be happening at astonishing speed and all of it getting worse. Fresh degradations every morning. Decency and honour are now archaic and silly. Childish displays of badly spelt spleen are modern discourse at every level of society. I'm in the peculiar position of imagining 1995 was about, I dunno, ten years ago, but 2028 is some distant marking post on the horizon and, in order to reach it, I'm going to have to clamber over the detritus of a collapsing civilisation, plucking used needles from my feet, and binding the wounds in strips of soiled flag. 

I mean, everything could turn out fine. But really, it doesn't look great, does it?  

Anyway, I'm overjoyed that I've had a manuscript accepted. I think these next two books are a real leap forward in terms of what I can do. I'm so immensely proud of them. I hope they will be loved. I hope people will take them to their hearts. And I'm immensely grateful for the opportunity to write them and to have them published. Sagging Meniscus Press are looking a lot more optimistic than I am at the moment. I should learn from them.