So I did stuff. I did writingy stuff. ("Writingy" is one of those words people use that lets you know they're real writers, not like those hacks who have to use dictionary words.) I wrote ten stories, which is by no means a personal record but isn't anything to sneeze at, either. I did some revisions for a long-trunked project and have detailed plans for more. I wrote a fairly sizable chunk of a novel that was like pulling teeth, put it aside, and started a novel that is not the least bit like pulling teeth. I sold seven new stories and had eight new stories published (several of which are available from links on my bibliography page).
This was the year alecaustin's and my collaboration first saw publication, and we sold a couple more collaborative stories and have plans to do more work together in the new year. So that's been a very good set of things for both of us. I also had a story in a Year's Best and sold a story for this year's YB, and while I am not an assiduous pursuer of reprints, I found some all the same.
I stayed pretty closed-mouthed this year about how the vertigo and related meds were affecting me, and I kind of want to keep to that. Suffice it to say that they were, and that I am beginning to be able to notice patterns in the med/no-med periods. Ideally this will be something I can exploit when I have to do it again. (If, I suppose. But realistically, when.) So while I'm not pleased with everything I dealt with, I'm actually pretty pleased with how I dealt with it. When I let myself be.