42k words into my second novel and all I can do is keep writing until someone wants it, keeping writing after someone publishes it, keep writing even if no one ever wants it.

Goodnight from Moxham, where Geraldine Moody is drunk on both rhubarb wine and the power of being Queen at the Misrule Feast. Goodnight from Virginia Haydon, wishing she’d ignored the frost and lingered for more kisses with her goose-footed lover. Goodnight from Hookland.

I saw/heard you in three films this year - and failed to recognise you on all three occasions.

In that hour when the sky moves from nursery pink and blue to a bruised half-light, spirits wake. They walk towards us down alleys made sodium orange. IA legion of invisible things making themselves known in footsteps, in rough bumpings. – Lou Kemp, Hookland artist, 1982

I can still remember all the words to Ivan Skavinsky Skavar...

I've just audited my bookshelves. I own 99 books that I've not read yet. This is a relief, as 100 would be too many.

Goodnight from Joanie Stradwick, putting a porcelain bean into the Twelfth-tide Cake she’s baking for tomorrow’s feast of misrule. Goodnight from Trudy Whittle, making the traditional Ephinany Eve offering to the Soot Sprite in the form of extra applewood logs. Goodnight from Hookland.

Here comes a Hollowing Man To empty all of your insides out Here comes the Stuffing Man To have a good rummage about For you are his child Stuffed with straw and bone For you are his child Stuffed with teeth and stone - Trad. Hookland nursery rhyme

You wouldn’t stand up in a cinema a shout: “I know where that was filmed!” It would be filthy manners. Please don’t do this is Hookland. We respect the fourth wall in the county. My DMs are open if anyone wants ask where a picture was taken. Replies publicly breaking the fourth wall will be hidden.

The wise children of Hookland are prepared in a ways no Cub Scouts ever are. They hold in their heads a dozen false names - Charlie Dazzle, Jo Planter, Bobbie Anchor - to give to any Faery who demands one from them. For names are powerful and tricky things. - #CLNolan #FolkloreSunday

The Long Neolithic persists in the now. Its stones are engines of mystery. Its stone are engines of connection to a past of dead reverence. We become lithic pilgrims. Unable to deny how they speak to our imaginations, our aching need to wonder. – Dr. K. Brophy #StandingStoneSunday

The reason history repeats itself is that no-one listens the first time.

Finally watched Wake Up Dead Man with the family this evening, and loved it

Goodnight from Chas Mailer, worried he will never be able to sleep again after glimpsing Wishbloods playing football with a sheep skull. Goodnight from High Barley, where the full moon is silvering the fields and slipping along on lace-frosted lanes. Goodnight from Hookland.

The “tornado” inside the tornado?🤔 Check out this inner vortex that twists and churns inside the main circulation! These can be VIOLENT🌪️ @myradar.bsky.social #tornado #weather #science #drone

That's painfully true.

You're forgetting alcohol. And unhealthy snacks.

If only GRRM would actually finish writing it...

That author and I have been friends for thirty-plus years. I doubt that we'll ever formally collaborate, though we do share thoughts. Under no circumstances would I reach out to anyone else - because I'd be horrified if any of them said Yes.

I know some people take twilight as a signal to hurry home – especially when their route home crosses an old churchyard – but not me. I love boneyard lingering at twlight. That's when the tombs whisper loudest. That;s when you hear all its best gossip. – Izzie Barber #VOH

Goodnight from Ellie Carver, wishing her dad didn’t always think a good New Year’s Day family treat was a visit to yet another bloody haunted castle. Goodnight from Jennet Covell, constructing psychic flypaper to trap any soul that floats passed in the night. Goodnight from Hookland.

Didn't see that one. My worst film of 2025 was Silent Night, Deadly Night.

There is exactly one author with whom I'd collaborate. Which is probably one more than the number who'd collaborate with me.

Not just vibes - The Roman Empire fell for exactly that reason.

What the cunning folk of Hookland do on #NewYearsEve - year-walking. May your troubles not cross the threshold of midnight. May blessings walk down the lane to meet you in the coming year.

Goodnight from Cunning Davey Ash, readying himself to year walk the lanes in search of the new year’s secret name. Goodnight from the revellers at The Bell, waiting for the deer-skulled Lord of the Forest to bring in his blessings at the stroke of midnight. Goodnight from Hookland.

Now that's what I CALL thinking long-term.

Right, before the year walking commences, time for a roasted pear cider to warm the cockles and make the necessary libations.

It isn't hard to spot the tomb of a former member of the Duat Club in Ashcourt Necropolis or any other county boneyard. They all display some form of gaudy Egyptomania. You can't help but wonder if rumours of mummification are true, just what grave goods they hold. – #MattAdams

Anyone who is one cat short of crazy needs two more cats. Now.

Unfortunately, I can't give you much more detail. It was a brief segment on a TV nature programme I idly watched at least a couple of decades ago.

Yes, pretty much. They did an experiment once; taking a sheepdog out to a small (Scottish?) island where sheep lived wild. The dog could get the sheep to move left and right, but totally failed to get them in the pen.

Goodnight from Jason Bamfield, adding to the graffiti ghost stories worn by the walls of the docks. Goodnight from Ashcourt’s Black Horse Corner, where Tony Pickess is preaching the cosmic gospel of the Planet Skareg to everyone waiting for a tram home. Goodnight from Hookland.

Newspeak.

Those broken-limbed, time-disfigured sentinels above us observe in slow judgement. We rush and flicker in their stare. We see their breaking and they see ours. Sometimes I hold my ear to their walls in hope of hearing whispered memories, unhurried stories. – #CLNolan

Gavotte and Rondo - Kenny Ball's cover of Mozart's Rondo alla Turca.

As the old year dies, new doors and portals appear.

For someone my age, one of the comforting things about Christmas is its continuity. This Christmas is like last Christmas and indeed next Christmas - and that's a good thing. I did, however, hear a sentence this year that was new: "We had to clean out the oven with the vacuum cleaner."

Christmas is hard for many. The years roll, the ghosts at the table increase. We’re haunted by the absence of voices, of laughter engines who drank and ate with us. This can be day of remembrance rituals. For what it’s worth, Hooklanders near and far are in my candles today. Be gentle on yourselves.

Goodnight from Mary Judd, taking the bees a ritual slice of cake as she keeps her manners and tells them all her news. Goodnight from Evie Hobbs, desperately trying to stay awake till the hour on Christmas Eve when animals are said to be gifted the power of speech. Goodnight from Hookland.

Day 24 of #HooklandChristmasTree decoration. We place miniature ceramic bee hive on the tree. Time to tell the sleeping bees all our news, tell them of the year. All its joyful arrivals, all its harrowings and sad exits. We sing them the land and ask for honeyed blessings.

Time and RELATIVE DIMENSIONS in space.

All sorts of weird folklore gets rolled out on Christmas Eve. Animals speak, house hobs demand apple brandy. It's the one night when the winged dogs that climb and perch in churches can change positions. Magics and strangeness always seems thick today. – Nancy Appleyard #VOH

From a charity shop near me. No, it wasn't run by a charity devoted to supporting those with autism or OCD, I checked.

By contrast, I (along with an awful lot of others) have entered the December phase known as "Holy shit, I've only got a few hours left!"

Goodnight from St. Hedwig’s Polish church, where Father Backzkiewicz is repairing his Gwiazdor disguise before heading out on a round of gift-giving and fear-induction. Goodnight from Mike Hargate, back from doing business across the Bone Border. Goodnight from Hookland.

If you buy a book as a present - particularly a second-hand book - do you read it before wrapping and gifting it; and if so, is this cheating? Asking for a friend.

Write every day - Yes. Don't set word-count goals, and accept that there will be days when you produce nothing but garbage; but do least sit down and try every day. Writing - like any other human activity - gets easier the more you practise. Now, if I could only follow my own advice, here...

write everyday. no. writing everyday drains every bit of my cognitive strength. I hate blanket statements. do this do that. it doesn't work for everybody.

Later, we shall walk the same path through the boneyard to midnight mass. It shall be more ghost-crowded then, for in death many seem to remember the ritual of life and walk beside us. Each year adds to the roll of phantoms. – #CLNolan in a letter to #ArthurMachen, 1929