I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. Honestly, if you think waiting until some arbitrary date is going to make it more likely that you will succeed at something you aren’t already doing, I think perhaps you’re an idiot. At the very least a Pollyanna, which frankly is pretty much just a well-meaning idiot.  There is a slim chance of a “New Year’s Resolution” sticking. And yet, here I am making a 2019 resolution.

I tend to get so stuck in my own head (thanks depression!) or so busy (thanks work and family!) that I don’t put anything down here or in the book – I don’t write. I either think I don’t have anything to say that people would actually want to read or I do the whole “That’s a great idea, I’ll get to writing about it in a little bit.” On that latter, there were at least 3 times in 2018 when, by the time I sat down to write, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was I was going to write about. Senility is a harsh mistress. But so is my tendency to feel like I can’t do a thing if it isn’t perfect, which is one (of the many) banes of my existence. I’m so terrified of ridicule and failure that I just don’t do anything.

But I’m going to try to at least write something every week (besides work emails and Tweets). Whether it’s a blog post, or work on the book, or even work on a project or outlining a new story idea… I’m going to try to stop making excuses, or talking myself out of things, and make myself put something on a page.

I am resolved to be less of a failure in 2019. Making lofty goals, that’s me.

There’s a lot more where this came from! Want to read about bunny assassins and loved ones lost and deranged Christmas shoppers and surviving suicide?

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