I feel as though I should say something deeply introspective and wise on this, the eve of a new year. Something that will make you stop and think, make you sigh, make you wonder about the very fibers of our beings here on the planet we all share.
Well, damn. This last year’s been a doozy, huh?
How’s that? Really, it has been something else. The country’s gone all to hell and Canada gets more amazing by the minute, but my life’s been pretty damn great this year. I bought a home. I ran a marathon. I fell into big, big love. I got to meet about a million bloggers who are all, each one of ’em, as fabulous as you can imagine. I learned dogs are pretty damn cool. I wrote a lot. I got to spend time with my family, and all are healthy. My sisters remain incredibly cool.
So, what now? What does 2005 hold when 2004 kicked so much ass? I can only think of one thing: A book being freaking DONE. Not necessarily sold, because I know the realities of selling a novel in the Land of TiVo. But at least done and out there.
And you know what? Don’t yell at me, but I’m starting something new. I’m putting the novel I’ve been working on for two years aside for a little bit. I’ve been working it to death this last month, and it feels like a fair-isle sweater done on 10US needles. I’m fighting with its bulk, and it’s mocking me. And in my knitting, when I’m mocked, I put the obstinate wool away and start something else.
I don’t doubt I’ll finish the revisions on this one. I’m a finisher, something I’ve learned about myself this year. I always pick the grumpy sweater back up (eventually) and make it into a garment. But me and the current book, we’re on the outs, and I have a light little book in mind that I’m going to try to bang out in short order, starting next week. The knitted socks of my writing life.
I only worry about myself when I’m not writing at all. I did a fair bit of that this year, feeling too discouraged by the novel to do much of anything else. But as long as I’m writing, I’ll allow myself to let this novel lie fallow a little longer. I’ve got one character in particular who’s balking and digging in her heels and refusing, flat-out refusing, to do anything she needs to do. We’re not on speaking terms. We need a time-out. And she can’t have ANY ice cream, either, for at least a couple of months. I’m cruel that way.
Do I sound like I’m justifying too much? I might be. I have some guilt over not powering through the damned thing. But I tried that, and my voice is going all stern and mean and just isn’t mine at all. I’ll try this other project and we’ll see where it goes.
Here’s to a magnificent 2005 for us all. I raise my virtual glass of fine cham-pan-ya in your general direction and thank you, for being my friends. (New year) MWAH!
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