In 1992, the late Queen Elizabeth II referred to that year as her “annus horribilis” or horrible year. It seemed that there was no end of tribulations and scandals for her family that year, and the Irish part of me was, like, “Too bad, so sad.”

Then I had an annus horribilis of my own, which was 2024, and understood she’d needed to vent.

The year started with the death of a beloved writer friend, a sudden, expected death far too soon. Turns out that was only the beginning.

Throughout last year, I lost my father’s last two surviving sisters, had a scare with the serious illness of my oldest cousin, the multiple hospitalizations of another cousin, the death of another cousin, my age, who’d been like a sister, and finally and worst of all, the death of my ex-partner of 22 years.

In the middle of all that was the 2024 election, where, with the slimmest margin of victory ever, U.S. citizens re-elected a man whose first term was an unmitigated disaster, with close to a million Americans dead of COVID because he ignored it, brushes with fascism, and our diminished standing in the world.

Oh, I’m not talking about President Biden. You know who I mean. I will not say the President-Elect’s name. Immature? Maybe, but he’s our own Voldemort, who is promising mass deportations, prosecution and jailing of political opponents and those who aren’t loyal to him, a purge of federal employees, of which I was one, again if not loyal to him, and who brags about annexing Canada as the 51^st state, “taking back” the Panama Canal, and buying Greenland from Denmark.

It was too much. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve lost resilience, and last year flattened me. When I wasn’t pissed at the world, I really didn’t want to engage in it. So I didn’t.

I take a break at the end of the year anyway, but this one started a month early. Thanksgiving and Christmas were a nightmare for me, even though my family was with me. I haven’t watched or read much news since the election. I closed my Twitter (I won’t call it X.) account, the first social media I engaged in back in 2008. It was already a morass of MAGA slime, and I decided it wasn’t going to bring me down anymore.

The death of my ex-partner wasn’t much of a surprise. He was an alcoholic, and in a way, I was surprised it hadn’t already happened. Still, after 22 years together and 18 apart, it was difficult to accept that he was no longer in this world. Once, we had loved each other fiercely, but he loved the bottle more. As the child of an alcoholic, I couldn’t live that way again. His death is one that will be difficult to recover from, but a few days ago when something small and inconsequential which didn’t go my way set off a flood of tears, I could hear him say, “Remember, don’t sweat the small shit.” He was right when he first said it to me years ago and again a few days ago. Small shit stuff is beyond your control, so focus on more important shit.

Like living.

Like writing.

Like the rest of my life, which will be a long one, by the way.

Like resisting fascism perhaps to the extent my father did in World War II.

I was the happiest person on earth to see the end of my annus horribilis, but that’s the past now. It’s 2025. A new year with plenty of promise.

So, let’s talk about my novella that came out on January 1, 2025, my newest book in a new year.

Every Day is a Test is another story I wrote when a reader wanted to know more about a character mentioned several times in my 2021 collection of short stories, Spy Flash III: The Moscow Rules.

I had made some notes in 2017 on a story idea about a then-unnamed character, a young woman who Mai Fisher decides to mentor. This unnamed character became Cybill Fleming, a U.S. Army intelligence officer who yearns to do more than plan missions. Recruited by a long-time Directorate operative, Cybill shows exceptional incentive while undercover on a particular fictional candidate’s campaign staff.

Mai takes Cybill under her wing, but Mai remembers the test Alexei forced on her when she was a probationary operative and decides Cybill needs to be tested as well.

I almost said Every Day is a Test is some of my most politically themed work, but then I remembered the series A Perfect Hatred and my Meeting the Enemy series. As it says in my bio in each of my books, history and politics often find their way into my writing.

Every Day is a Test is a novella, so basically an afternoon read. It’s available as an eBook and a paperback, and you can find it HERE.

There’s an old Irish tradition for New Year’s Eve, where at midnight you open the doors to your house to let the old year and all its negativity out and allow the promise of a new year in. You can bet your sweet tuchus I did exactly that.

For you and yours I offer this traditional Irish New Year’s blessing: In the New Year, may your right hand always be stretched out in friendship and never in want.