So after writing Shorts, which I wrote and put together at a time when I wasn’t in a particularly solid mind-set for creating happy go lucky words, and let’s face it, that’s so typical of me anyway, over the two years that followed I put together not so much its sequel but an addition to what could possibly turn into a line of poetry and short story collections.
This one, or the work it features, is less grey, less morbid, there’s less of the hurt that drove me to write before. In places there are moments of the funny I’ve always known, yet before it was nearly always worn as a mask instead of a true happy, and in this collection my happy is, well, almost real. It also features some of my first work writing about how I felt about someone I’d got close to, something I thought was going to be my healthy happy ending but alas that wasn’t meant to be — perhaps collection number three will feature yet another instalment of bouncing back from something different or who knows, maybe it will feature that happy I’ve been looking for which will make my work so unexciting and chipper. Yak.
So here it is. Not a massive leap back into a happy life, but a sensible one. One where even though those challenges are still coming head-on thick and fast I’m making the kind of choices I need to to keep myself head-healthy, fit and happy.
Maybe the next one will be different. Maybe the next one will be the one with the real happy ending, but for now, this little sparrow is quite content wondering what might come next.