The year, I suppose, revolved around two books. One is by Karl Marx. The other is mine.
There was going to be a "Venice Project 2". The first one sold quite well, people seemed to like it and I felt I had sufficient material for a second volume. Indeed, by the summer of 2014 I'd put down about 30,000 words. But I wasn't enjoying it. I had a vague idea for a novel in the back of my mind, and I was more excited by the prospect of getting started on that.
And then I got lucky. Very, very lucky. I was contacted by an agent who'd enjoyed the first book and wanted to know what I was working on next. We discussed the fragments of ideas that I had, and he suggested I send him three chapters.
I spent the next month trying to write the best 10,000 words of my life. He liked them. He liked them so much he asked if I could add another 70,000 or so, and send him a complete novel. And so, 1000 words a day, every day, for three months, I put it together. Caroline proofread it for me (we'll never agree on the Oxford comma), suggested it might be a little bit sweary (I disagree, so I cheerfully ignored this) and - crucially - pointed out I'd got a major character's name wrong in the penultimate chapter; a mistake that made a complete nonsense of the ending! Phew...
In short, My Brilliant Agent (as I shall refer to him) liked it; and began the process of trying to find a publisher. It all seemed like a bit of a dream. At times I wondered if some of my friends were actually playing the greatest ever practical joke in the world on me. It should have been nerve-wracking, but those first four months of the year were intensely busy ones for work, and there wasn't much time for much other than teaching and sleeping.
School broke up at the end of June, and a strange-yet-brilliant job appeared out of nowhere. We'd first come to Venice for the Biennale, and now we had a chance to be a part of it. Isaac Julien's "Das Kapital Oratorio" project would keep us busy for most of the summer, and several times a week we would head off to the Giardini to read Karl Marx. It was tiring at times, and sometimes frustrating (reading some of Marx's most impassioned passages to an empty theatre, or seeing the audience thin away to nothing during the interminable economic formulae of Volume 2). Still, it was a worthwhile experience and we met some great people with whom we hope to keep in touch. It would have been nice to see it through to the end, but my involvement finished in September, with the advent of the new school year.
Being part of the Biennale did make it difficult to actually see it all. Nevertheless, we saw perhaps 90% of it this time around. Among the home nations, Bedwyr Williams 2013 "The Starry Messenger" was always going to be a difficult act for Wales to follow, but Helen Sear's "...the rest is smoke" was still a beautiful piece of work. Scotland - after a lamentably poor 2013 - redeemed themselves with an excellent exhibition from Graham Fagen. As for the UK pavilion itself, well perhaps the best that can be said is that it might have seemed more impressive in 1995.
Then, on Friday September 25th, at about 13:20 Italian time, I got The Email from My Brilliant Agent.
It began with the words "Get the Prosecco out."
He'd done it. He'd placed the book with Little, Brown for release in early 2017; with a sequel in 2018. We went out to celebrate with our Brilliant Australian Friends (and yes, I am aware that I am overusing the word 'Brilliant'). It's kind of hard to describe how I felt, so I'll just say that everyone deserves a day like that once in their lives.
Caroline semi-retired this year, something that suits us both. No more bored teenagers, no more screamy infants. Just nice, motivated students. She still seems to find herself with a bafflingly large amount of work though.
Next year is going to be a busy one. I've made the same mistake as last time, the one I promised myself I wouldn't repeat, and taken on too much teaching work. This means the first few months of next year are going to be a bit grim, but those three months will pay for us to have a good summer again. Then there'll be work to be done on the first book, and another one to be written from scratch.
So Christmas is nearly upon us. I've done quite well for presents, again : a bottle of prosecco from a teaching colleague, a splendid meal with my Intermediate students, an origami swan; and some of the kids made me cards. OK, one of them says "Merry Christmas by you" but (a) prepositions are always difficult and (b) they're only seven. A reminder, at the end of the year, that this is often a lovely job.
Merry Christmas everyone, e Dio ci benedica, tutti!