Thanks, y’all, for playing along in the win-a-Romi book! Drum roll, please…. The randomly drawn winner is Grace who liked the Bright Moments cardigan! Grace, you’ve been emailed!
And Happy New Year to everyone! I’d do a recap, but you know what? For once I don’t want to. 2015 was a bit of a slog. I’m not sad to boot it out the door. I’m already feeling a tingling in my toes that says 2016 will do things worth dancing about.
Without making resolutions (because come on, the only reason to make one is to break one), I’ve actually been able to journal every day this year so far. It’s the one thing I’d really like to make into a habit, so I’m keeping it light. Just a paragraph or two, entered in a Word document on my computer. I’m so tired of trying to figure out how to store my old journals, and while I write a lot in my paper journal (with my Livescribe pen! Which is awesome but honestly not that practical for my lifestyle, I have to admit) it’s mostly lists and illegible scrawls.
I’ve been so inspired by reading The Folded Clock: A Diary by Hedi Julavits.* It’s a collection of journal snippets that read as somehow more than just that. Eula Bliss says of it: “This diary is a record of the interior weather of an adept thinker.” Exactly so. And I adore the idea of keeping a journal that holds actual, concrete memories–short, but well described moments in time. I thought to myself it was as if she sat down every night and fictionalized a moment in her day. My next thought was I could do that.
I’m a writer, after all.
Sometimes that thought still gives me thrills. Okay, it often gives me thrills, not just sometimes. I am a writer. I just finished a draft of my first Patreon essay, and I’m happy with it. I got to a (real) point and unraveled something I truly believe within its pages, and that’s where I love writing best–when I can dive down deep and get confused and talk to myself and come up with something real. It’s twenty-two pages! It’s about liars and thieves, and how artists are both, but benevolently so, and I’m terrified about it. Dude, I swear I catch imposter syndrome like it’s airborne. (Speaking of that, I abandoned the lovely Station Eleven — god, for some of you, Alzheimer’s is your greatest fear, and for that, I apologize for Splinters of Light. But pandemic is one of my greatest fears, and while all of you were right — the book is not about that, not really — the plot is so closely and inextricably related to pandemic that even after my sister told me the ending, I’m still having nightmares a week later. Sensitive flower alert. It’s so good! But not for me.)
Anyway. Back to more polishing and then I’ll be sending it out today or tomorrow. (There’s still time to get your own copy by pledging a tip of your choice per essay, or you can read it in the collection next year.)
And to you: I wish you only resolutions that say things like, “Sleep more” and “Hug people” and if you want to break those, too, then I give you absolution *makes the sign of a chocolate croissant over your head*
* Affiliate link because mama needs a yard or two more yarn