It’s That Time of Year again!

What time, you ask?

To which I reply, New Year’s Resolution time!

You’ll note that I am filled with joy. This is because, despite my vague and flighty demeanor, I am a big resolver. In fact, last year was the first year I didn’t make any resolutions in . . . well, years.

The thing is, this time last year, I was in an awesome, but very weird place. I knew that whatever happened in the coming year was going to be significant, but I had no idea what it was going to look like. Which was scary. (Why yes, I do like things to have a structure and a plan.)

I was in the middle of a big revision for my newly-acquired agent and every writing-related thing was contingent upon the end result of that revision. If the manuscript didn’t sell, I would need to write and polish another manuscript to shoppable condition, and it if did sell, I would need to prioritize editorial revisions over any of my own writing goals, potentially nullifying them, and therefore making them impossible to cross off my list. I hate not crossing things off.

In some ways, I’m in the same position this year, and out of necessity, it’s changing how I make my resolutions.

Here are some things about the coming year that I already know: I know I’ll be revising and polishing Book 2. I know I’ll need to start writing whatever comes after Book 2. I know I’ll be participating in contests and blog interviews. In previous years, any of these would have made really good goals, but this year, as overwhelming and novel as they are, they now fall under the heading of doing my job. Which is, in and of itself, overwhelmingly novel.

So this year, a lot of my resolutions are non-writing related. Which means I have complete control over them and will achieve them or not, based solely on my own efforts. The thing is, it’s been more than ten years since I’ve formulated goals that don’t revolve entirely around writing. I don’t really know how anymore and as a result, some of them have turned out to be quite frivolous:

-Finish at least four of the numerous sewing projects malingering in my closet.

-Travel to a minimum of three places.

-Finish my rough draft of 14 Dreams—an uncontracted semi-literary YA, and possibly the hardest project I have ever undertaken. In its final form, it will be unbearably awesome. Or else, a total wash.

-Make a croquembouche. Yes, really.

-Weed the deadwood from my closet, to equal one quarter of the total mass. No matter how much they plead, no matter how fiercely I tell myself that I really am going to wear that dress again, if it hasn’t made a grand entrance in the last year, it goes.

-Get up to FoCO to see more than just bi-monthly (I basically already do this, but sometimes, we are remiss).

-Take better care of my hair.

-Ditto fingernails.

-Work up to at least three miles, treadmill or otherwise. I’ll call it research, if that’s what it takes.

-When in doubt, call everything research.