When people ask me about my writing, I often explain that I write because I can’t not write. Forgive that clunky sentence, that double-negative, but it’s so true. 2018 proves it better than any other year thus far.
2018 brought me a lot of personal issues to work through, but through the ups and downs, I also completed more story drafts than in any prior year. This shocked me when I did the calculation. A good chunk of them were short even by my standards, but still. I had to steal time for it. I had to reclaim that part of me. And I had to acknowledge the times when I could, in fact, not write, and be okay with that. I still came away with new experiences to stow for when I’m ready.
Here’s hoping for momentum in 2019—preferably without the emotional roller-coaster. And here’s wishing for health and wellbeing for all of you! May the only scares and misfortunes be found in the fiction you consume, and may the pages you read be numerous.