On Resolutions

I am a resolved person.

It is this resolve that pushes me through book after book even though none of them are selling.

It is this resolve that sends my work out again and again, even though all I get is rejection.

It is this resolve that makes me look at the possibility of business ownership, agree to it, and then push through all the uncertainty and doubt and (lets face it) terror.

It is this resolve that gets me to learn tax law and business accounting, even though I’m an English major gosh-dang-it who spent most of math class asking when we were ever going to use this. (For the record, I still don’t use my trig or pre-calc. I doubt I ever will.)

But back to the point.

I am a resolved person.

Which makes New Years Resolutions awkward, because I’m already committed to so many resolutions throughout the year.

This year I am already resolved to finish my dang revision–no matter how much I hate it or how much anxiety it causes me–in the next few months.

I am already resolved to send it to my agent, make possible further changes, and then allow him to send it wherever he chooses, and stave off insanity as the responses come in, whatever they may be.

I am already resolved not to let the limbo and uncertainty of the last year continue so long that they put my other goals in peril. I am resolved to take my earning power back into my own hands if success eludes me that long.

I am already resolved to once again figure out tax filing, royalty statements, rights agreements, and budgeting, even though I swear these tasks change every time that I do them. I am also resolved to take a long hard look at incorporating, and make some kind of time-line or contingency plan for transformation based on what I find there.

I am already resolved to continue as business assistant so that our business can continue to grow. I am resolved to remember that the prognosis is hopeful, even if the immediate results aren’t yet sustainable.

I am also resolved to remember that while this life is precarious, it is also guided. I believe in God. And I have felt his approval of my goals. All I can do now is remain resolved, and push through. 2009 was the year of limbo, but it was also the year of preparation. Here’s hoping for pay off in 2010.

I am back.

There are so many things I ought to write about–things that go back four months or more. I have a list.

The last week has been lovely and frustrating and warm and wonderful and exhausting and refreshing all at once.

The most important piece of it (besides seeing family) was that Drew and I had a conversation in which we solidified our financial goals for the next six years. It was all stuff we’d talked about before, but this time I pulled out a piece of paper and actually did the math.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

This wouldn’t be so scary if I didn’t think that we could pull it off. I want to be excused from the task by impossibility. That’s been something of a theme this year. If my goals are impossible, then I’m not responsible for reaching for them.

But they aren’t impossible.
So I’m reaching.
Next Monday I go back to work.
Between now and then I need to scrape together all the odds and ends that vacation has interrupted and scattered.

It’s good to be back.

Struggles

It’s been years since I had a hard time getting to bed in the morning, but here we are. This is in part because I’ve been staying up too late. But I’ve only been staying up too late to prologue the inevitability of having to get up in the morning.

And why? Because when I get up in the morning, I have to fight with myself over my revision.

I haven’t had so much trouble with a writing task in a long time. I’m the go-to girl. I get it done and I get it done fast. Except that with the trauma of the last year, I’m not getting it done fast–I’m getting it done with much weeping and wailing. Add to that the new skills I’m picking up, which means my brain gets fried much faster (this is your brain; this is your brain on writing), and we have a recipe for a slow and painful (yet productive) revision.

And then compound on top of that the question of my future. Am I going to be a writer, or a teacher, or a business partner, or some combination of all of these things? Just how long is it going to take before everything is stable enough to move on with other long term goals, like saving for a house, like having kids? How long to I waiver in uncertainty before I just make the decision to act on the things I have control over and let the rest of them go for good? Will this revision be any better than the others? Will it help me progress, or prolong the limbo? Am I ever going to learn to get this right? And if I do, will anyone ever really pay money for it? If I take forever to get there, how many more professionals will give up on me? Will this slow down last forever? Will I get faster again, get better? Will this work be worth it? Am I doing the right thing? Am I?

I want so badly for all this to be the wrong thing. Because if it is the wrong thing, I could quit and feel relief. I could stop and things would be easier. But if it’s a right thing, then the only way out is through all of this hard work.

The only way out is through.

So I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, because when I get up I have to fight with myself and my work. I delay going to bed because as long as I stay up, I don’t have to wake up and deal with it.

I have to believe this is going to get easier again. It’s been easier before. It won’t stay like this forever. I’ll learn the new skills; I’ll get my confidence back. I’ll go back to being the go-to girl, only I’ll be better at it than I was before. I’ll be less afraid. My work will improve. I’ll be able to balance the work with other goals. I’ll either meet success or find success somewhere else. I have to keep telling myself this story. I have to believe that it’s true.

The only way out is through.
So through it is.

I am awake, but feel asleep.

Our swamp cooler leaked dirty roof water into our apartment all day yesterday, and today there are heavy boots clomping around on the roof. The dripping has stopped. I’m still not moving the buckets, though. (Yay for being a renter. It’s not me on the roof!)

I have work to do. That’s going to be strange if I don’t wake up soon.

Of Winter and Heaters

I intended this week to be a hardcore work week. My revision sorely needed it. Instead I turned on my heater last Friday and spent the week having severe allergic reactions to the dust in the vents. I benadryled my brain into non-existence. The freezing cold and ice didn’t help. So I hibernated.

I worked on a christmas present but ran out of materials. I worked on wrapping, but ran out of wrapping paper. Benadryl brain and ice on the road made driving a non-option. So I played video games instead.

Now with vent filters in place, I’m starting to do all the things I didn’t do over the last week again. You know, like make food. Eat. Work. Leave my house. I still won’t drive. Too much ice.

I guess next week will be a VERY hardcore work week. I’ve got to get this thing done with.

I’d still mostly rather be hibernating.

Retrospective

I graduated high school in 2000, so this year marks the end of the first decade of my adult life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the things I accomplished in those ten years. I made a lot of mistakes, but overall, I’m pretty happy with the way things turned out. Things that filled those ten years:

Wrote seven books
Earned two degrees
Became mentally and emotionally healthy
Made a lifetime’s worth of amazing friends
Married my best friend

Of course, I fell seven times doing most of those things. (#3 especially was the cause of much falling.) But I stood up that eighth time, and that’s what counts, I think. It was all a tremendous amount of work, but worth every bit of it. Each of these things has been quite a blessing, and a miracle.

What’s interesting is that everything on that list is something that I knew I wanted by the end of that first year on my own. Which makes me think about the things I want for the next ten years of my life. The list goes something like this:

Several published novels doing well enough
Kids
A house
A 12-year-successful happy marriage
A 12-year-successful profitable business

That seems like a lot. If I got all of that in the next ten years, I don’t know what I’d work for in the 20’s.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.