Bury This Year. I'm Done With It.

For a few days now, I've been thinking I need to do an end of the year post. Everyone's doing them. Reflecting on all they've done and learned throughout the year. It seemed appropriate I should do so as well. But as the last hours of the year ticked away, I found I had no coherent thoughts to arrange into a proper post. This, I thought, is a problem.

With so many putting off their New Year's celebrations just waiting to read my thoughts, it became an ever increasing burden I wished to shed. Still, what was I to say? How much I've learned this year? Seems overdone, but okay.

• Even though I already knew this, I learned you're never done, even when you think you are.
• I learned the value of critiques from people who have never seen my work.
• I learned how to query.
• I learned to be numb before opening the rejection letter, or email.
• I learned no matter how much you prepare; no matter what you do right; no matter how much you want something, others, less deserving, will get it.
• I re-learned the value of being home.

A year ago, I was lucky to have my job back, based in Puerto Rico and cursing the stars that put me there. I wasn't working much, leaving plenty of time to write, so, of course, I wasn't writing much. There were other things going on in my life, some of which still are, but my perception, and expectations, have changed dramatically.

I never thought I would miss San Juan until I found myself in Atlantic City. In my mid-thirties I slept on a top bunk in a house with seven weirdos I might have nothing to do with in real life. Again, I wasn't working much. (I get paid pretty well to not work, but still...) But there, things were different. My saving grace was the library, a few blocks from that little beach house. If I ever become a published author, I'm writing at least a page to thank the people of Ventnor City, New Jersey. Because they don't read, I had the entire library to myself, virtually every day for three long winter months. It was not only my refuge from the harshest of realities, it was where I got more work done in those three months than in the previous three years of writing.

Schmitty the Pirate and Grimstoke's Curse was in queryland. One agent said, "I like it." I'm still waiting for one to say, "I'll take it."

In the meanwhile, I managed to find my way home. Other failures abounded, but at some point, I learned how to blog. I like it. I really like reading other blogs. You know who you are. Well, some of you may not, but I like yours too. In the beginning, I didn't really have a plan for this blog. There was a vague notion of what it might be, but go back and read my first few posts. You won't find much continuity. As I've felt my way, I've found more focus. I have some ideas heading into the new year. (not the new decade, as some have been saying. That's still a year a way. Go on. Look it up.)

I've made some great blogging friends I'm thankful for. I'm getting back to writing, with Sister Very Pretty to keep me interested. Other things, still secret things, will hopefully come to fruition. Work is still work, but as I like to say, this is the first job I've had that I didn't hate. And that's pretty good. Prettyyy, prettyyyyy, prettyyyyyyyy, pretttyyyyyyyyy good.

So go away 2009. Don't come back. I'm done with you.