This post, as with many things I’m responsible for, is late. But here goes…
2016 was an incredible year, and when I say incredible, I’m including every connotation and emotional association that word evokes. There were triumphs and disappointments, too few of the former and far too many of the latter.
But we must remain positive.
At the start of 2016 I set out to do something that has been scrawled on every New Year’s resolution list I’ve created since 2007.
Write a novel.
I dithered about the first quarter of the year, starting and stopping various drafts, not really sure if what I was doing even counted as progress. It wasn’t until I joined a writing group that was both demanding and encouraging that I began to focus, and I owe them a tremendous amount of thanks. The story is incomplete, raw, rough, flawed, and riddled with more holes than Luke Cage’s Carhartt hoodie, but you know what?
And the bones are there.
2017 is all about editing, revising, sobbing at the hatred that will inevitably build against it, and rinsing and repeating. But that’s what I wrote down for this year’s resolution.
And to be quite honest, right now it feels good, so that’s what I’m clinging to as we enter 2017.