So here we are; push come to shove. Out with the old and in with the new. See if the reset holds.
The old year is gone, as is my Christmas break. I cooked, I cleaned, I sorted and filed a year's worth of stuff lying around my desk, including copious amounts of material, files and notes, for the novel(s).
Tomorrow it's back to real life and the first real test of those brand-spanking new resolutions. At least the ones that survived the weekend. You can almost hear the clink, the clash, the crash and burn as they hit the ground.
I skipped the resolutions this year, and went more for broad guidelines, kind of like painting with broad brushstrokes on the canvas. I will do something. I will write something everyday. I will eat something healthy everyday. You get the picture.
Tomorrow we'll see how that's working out. Baby steps.
I did manage to read the first four chapters of a novel my friend, who's actually the other half of my brain, is writing. It's excellent already, and hopefully it will be an inspiration to me as I try to return to one of the two novels I have had in progress for a very long time now.
Maybe we'll both reach our goals and finish our novels.
It's the new year and we are nothing if not hope.