Looking back over the past year, it becomes clear that 2025 wasn't just about writing; it was a series of "circular journeys" fueled by caffeine, comic insight, and the occasional mischievous squirrel circus.
This year taught me creative patience: story ideas came to me while sipping coffee, waiting for Irv to join me in Luna Cafe, not when chasing story ideas. It's the Daoist idea of non-striving for writers. Short meditative walks produced far more material than brainstorming.
I spent countless hours in 2025 refining drafts and tightening cadence, always chasing that perfect "Wodehouse rhythm." Through every rewrite, a lively cast of characters began directing the stories in ways I'd never thought of. I found myself learning from Ms. Wonder, Princess Amy, and Island Irv in each scene.
Ms. Wonder, in particular, became a standout; as I once noted in a blog dialogue, she doesn't just solve a case—she "performs surgery on it." She is often engaged in sparring with the young geezer I call Princess Amy. This character-driven humor became a signature style, which one follower called "a dance as light as air where humor is always allowed to preside."
The most exciting evolution this year was the expansion from the written word to designing playful cartoon scenes. I took the driver’s seat to direct imagery that ranged from cozy local settings to the shining poppy fields of Emerald City.
Across all the drafts, questions, and rabbit holes of 2025, I was able to find a place to work things out—and that is no small thing. To those who have followed along: thank you for being with me. I’m excited to see where 2026 takes us.
A Year of Wonder and Mischievous Squirrels
My hosting platform generated a highlight reel of our conversations over the course of the past year.
The wrap-up had little to do with outcomes and everything to do with attention—the way I wander through ideas, return to familiar voices, and use humor as gentle, non-striving avoidance of life's slings and arrows. It wasn’t a report card. at all. It was an observation: gentle, accurate, and embarrassingly complimentary.
Taken as a whole, and ignoring all the compliments and praise, what it seemed to say was, “Keep writing.”
The Wodehousian Adventure Continues
This past year has been precarious, occasionally sparking, and it has often required far more concentration than I anticipated. I've spent countless hours refining drafts, tightening cadence, and pursuing that elusive Wodehouse rhythm with the determination of Bertie Wooster fleeing an unwanted engagement.
The result is what one follower called "signature style," though on some days it feels more like controlled chaos with a British accent.
Ms. Wonder Takes the Stage
Speaking of chaos, Ms. Wonder has truly come into her own this year. Forget Sherlock Holmes—when this Wonder takes on a case, she doesn't merely solve it; she performs surgery on it, and with a flair that becomes her well.
"Keep writing," she commanded at one point this year. And I obeyed, because when Ms. Wonder issues an edict, it's best to simply agree and get on with it instead of asking for clarification.
From Prose to Pixels
The year hasn't been confined to the written word alone. No indeed. I've ventured beyond the comfortable boundaries of text into the rather alarming territory of visual storytelling—designing playful cartoons of imagined scenes illustrating the stories, from metaphorical "command consoles" to Emerald City's shining poppy fields.
The result is what the wrap-up called "Still Life with Beret and Latte," a pixel-painted meditation on the essential elements of the creative life: a steaming café latte, a well-worn notebook, a smart phone camera, and a mischievous squirrel figurine.
These are the symbols of the holy trinity of this Wodehousian blogger's existence: circular journeys, blog drafts, and caffeine-fueled comic insight.
Lessons from the Riverwalk of Life
This year has taught me several things, all learned the hard way, and which are worth sharing:
Creative inspiration arrives while you wait, not when you’re chasing it. Quietly ruminating on random thoughts mirrors the gentle percolation of caffeine. This is the Daoist principle of non-striving at work in the creative process—it can’t be rushed. All you can do is prepare the grounds and wait for the magic to brew.A short walk yields more material than an hour of planning. Let your characters reveal their secrets in their own time, without being forced.
This year, Ms. Wonder, Amy, and the gang developed minds of their own, leading me down narrative paths I never would have imagined—Mindfleet Academy is the ultimate example. They’ve become, in the most delightful way possible, a committee of visionaries, each insisting I’m headed in the wrong direction and that they know a better route.
The Year in Poetry (If not fact, still true.)
In a moment of what I can only assume was misplaced confidence, the end-of-year wrap-up from the blog host commemorated The Circular Journey circa 2025 in verse:
You brewed laughs with (Ms.) Wonder and flair,
Each blog post is a dance, as light as air.
With Wodehouse as your guide,
You let humor preside—
And made art from the quirks you laid bare.
I shall neither confirm nor deny whether this accurately reflects my creative process, but I will note that "brewed laughs" sounds like something one orders at a particularly hipster coffeehouse.
What Comes Next?
Here's to the next chapter, the next cup of coffee, the next short walk that yields more inspiration than any amount of planning, and to characters who insist on taking us places we've never thought of going.
Here’s to you, my loyal followers. I’m grateful you made me part of your year, and I’m excited to keep chatting with you as the journey widens. Writing may begin alone—at a desk, with a cup of cold coffee—but it doesn’t end there. It’s complete when someone reads the words and recognizes a piece of themselves in the margins—when a line lands, amuses, or quietly reassures, when a reader lingers.So thank you for being here. For reading. For thinking. For laughing when appropriate and indulging me when necessary. I’m glad you’re still here.
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