I probably should have written this on January 1st , or maybe the 7th. The more traditional time for New Year’s resolutions or goal setting. It simply wasn’t in me this year. Oh, I had one. I still have one.
Rain will be published this year.
That’s it. The one and only goal–a goal perhaps twenty-two years in the making. I have to laugh at myself. So far I have managed to outdo any attempts by writing friends to moan about how long they’ve been working on a particular piece.
“Five years? Ten years? That’s nothing. Try over twenty.”
A strange satisfaction, to be sure. A satisfaction not unlike a parent who has a child still at home. Grade school and high school are finished. The rebellious stages of adolescence done and learned from. A parent knows their child isn’t perfect, but they’ve done their best. And they will always love them. Perhaps out there in the big, open world someone else will love them, too.
I’ll sniffle later and privately.
Any other goals for this year? What’s on my writing list? I used to post lists. Some projects remain there, some changed, and still others appeared out of the blue.
I’m not publishing them–not any more.
Someone in one of my writing groups posted something which appealed to me more than any list of writing resolutions for the coming year–taking just one word and applying it to the coming year. I loved it. Simple. Flexible. Capable of being applied to every level, not just writing.
This is my word for 2016