Hello Reader, This week on the water I’m looking out of the window in my study onto the grey-green surface of Priory Lake. The sky above is a uniform light grey. The trees along the shore are bare, although each is garlanded by a ruff of glossy green English Ivy. It’s at about this time, in the run-up to Christmas, when many of us are forced by circumstance to lay aside our writing, that we take stock, measuring ourselves against our goals. We ask whether we finished that novel we’d swore...