So after four years of stewing over a tantalizing bit of plotline which involves my rambunctious friends, vampires, decadent lifestyle and pure silliness, I have finally embarked upon the journey to write a novel (again). This won’t be some Victorian tragedy like The Letters, mainly because while I can write about it, I can’t go all the way to Gieves to ask how much their suit cost back in the 19th century. So here it is.

The title is yet undecided, as I have tentatively tagged a word that vaguely sounds sci-fi, but I’m guessing this will be changing quite soon. Loada fashion-involving and J-induced innuendos in this one.

Anyway, we’ll see how it goes. Pseudo-realistic fiction isn’t really my thing, but considering that I’m just writing this for fun, what harm can it do?