We’ve reached 2020! It doesn’t quite feel like “the future” – but an extension of a semi-permanent present. I’m more and more aware that a year is short – 365 days around the sun, 24 hours each (8,760 hours total) – and therefore fleeting. But “fleeting” doesn’t have to equal harried.

I’m leery of setting up “New Year’s Resolutions.” In the past I’ve been prone to biting off more than I can chew just to keep up with my perception of others’ progress toward tangible self-improvements or transformations. My own resolutions would come from a sense of needing to have resolutions rather than a genuine desire for change. My expectations were always unreasonable and unattainable, and it would inevitably contribute to low motivation, low self-esteem. I did not want to live like that.

I’d rather focus on a few goals. Nothing flashy to attract attention or commentary or to make myself look somehow more successful to everybody else (on Twitter). Simple, sustainable, self-growing things. Anything else is pointless.

I view the new year in terms of signposts and possibilities: what can be done today, this week, this month. A year as an unexplored country is far more enticing than a bunch of arbitrary deadlines – especially for a writer who isn’t agented or published yet. Exploring the reasons why I personally want to do something gives me more control and offers more meaning than if I simply followed a train of shoulds. (Psst: there are a lot of “shoulds” on Twitter.)

Working & Writing

In December, I interviewed for a paralegal position in the department. During the inevitable waiting period, I’d allowed myself to toy with the idea of having a job in which 1.) I would be doing more meaningful work (aside from answering a switchboard, etc), and 2.) the pay was better. The same week I found out the job went to someone else, I wound up having over $1000 in car repairs. Same day again, I got a rejection from an agent. All this on top of Christmas-prep anxiety and a genuine need for new glasses.

Fast forward through the holidays and the stress and a brief existential crisis and a month later, I’m still at my old job as a receptionist. The year ahead is a barren landscape of things that haven’t happened yet. And I’m okay. Hopeful, in fact.

I have to come back to the simple truth that I am very lucky. Finances are tight but not short. My job – tedious as it can be – gives me the time and the mental space to think about my creative projects between phone calls and putting out little fires. Had I gotten that paralegal job – or applied for another open position – I’d be struggling to adjust to the workload and a whole slew of new responsibilities. I don’t know if the pay increase would have been worth the stress. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now quietly jotting down these thoughts or looking ahead at my writing year.

Through January’s clear window, I find that things staying the way they are is not bad at all. It’s not glamorous – nor does it look like “progress” to our money-and-success driven society – but it works. Ten years ago someone asked me if I wanted to be a receptionist at 35. I was ashamed of the thought. Of course not, I answered. But the truth? It has turned out much better than I thought. It’s a routine, a steady (if not massive) income, insurance, and unexpected freedom. Money is not worth giving that up.

Querying

Querying literary agents will take a while. Sometimes it takes years. This is not easy. This is not quick. This is training for a career of rejections, disappointments, and long fallow periods of waiting. It’s a tough, nail-biting business. This is not a journey for the impatient. Neither does it look like “progress.” The question isn’t whether to keep querying but to keep learning the process: send letter, get rejection, revise/rewrite, send, repeat.

That rejection in December clued me in. My query was technically “fine,” even pretty, but it obviously wasn’t getting me anywhere. My goal for this week: fix the hook and clearly show the stakes of the novel, no matter how icky. My goal for the month: send out at least two queries using the updated letter.

Twitter

I would like to spend less time on Twitter this year and more time building meaningful relationships with writers.

Ultimately, Twitter is a great tool for connecting with other writers, published or unpublished, and agents. I’ve found so much good advice and so many good souls there. However, there are only a few people with whom I’ve had actual, meaningful conversations.

We are all sucked into the “follow trains” where someone starts a thread, we respond with a gif and then we follow everyone else who likes or responds. It’s a race to accumulate as many followers as possible… even if that number does not necessarily (and very rarely does) lead to genuine connections. What it does do is dump random people into my feed who don’t really engage, much less respond to a thread I’ve posted. They just want numbers. They don’t want to listen. It’s lonely.

What I want is a group of writers whom I can rely on for support and vice versa. I’d love to be part of a critique group. I’d love to Skype with them. That will take a little courage to make happen, but it would be worth it.

I’m not giving up Twitter, just essential to my creative output. I’m tired of absorbing other people’s sometimes weird or knee-jerk takes on writing, culture, and life in general. It makes for a messy head space. It makes me doubt my own convictions.

And besides, I tire easily of “conversation starters” about “your MC’s favorite breakfast food” or “What would you say to someone who thinks writing is easy?” or “Why do you write?” Oversharing even the smallest, most pointless details feels… like grade school-level crafting. Pointless. I’m even starting to question sharing word counts or how many hours I write per day. Validation and encouragement are great, but sometimes, it’s easier to work without seeking feedback for everything.

Two Novels

The general advice I’ve seen from authors and agents alike is to start working on a brand new project while you query one project. This would 1.) put distance between yourself and the novel being queried, and 2.) allow you to hone your craft on new terrain. 3.) There’s no guarantee the first novel will sell; why waste your time on a sequel?

Agreeing with them, I’d decided to rewrite the novel I began as a student in England: two people from 1939 traveling through time to the 6th century. Perfect, I thought, totally different from the science-fiction novel I finished in July. I promised myself that I would not begin writing a sequel for said novel lest I wind up rewriting the first all over again. From an agent’s point of view,

But then…

I’ve not written anything – aside from Joy & Moxie – since August. I tried my hand at a shorter piece, got overwhelmed with my idea and put it aside. I did begin to study 6th century Northumbria (especially the West Riding) and Old English for said time-travel novel. I’m not quite ready to write it yet.

I want to be absolutely sure I get the history right, whatever history there is from such a murky period. I’d love to go back to Yorkshire and the boundaries of old Elmet, but it’s not an easy journey to make from Nebraska. Yes, I can make a lot of it up. But I’d like to be more confident of geography and terrain and regional Angles vs Britons history. So while I research, I need a solid story to anchor myself.

The sequel to the science-fiction novel. Yup, the novel I’m querying. I’m going to be naughty. 😈

Am I an idiot? Maybe. Am I listening to my instincts? Yes. My heart? Yes, yes.

Why, really? Because it will be years till I can write a sequel, if at all. Because I have a strong urge to see what happens next. Because if I don’t write it I’ll go crazy.

And, I hear a voice asking: can I write one draft in a year? What about two? (Sequel and time-travel novel, both.) Why not try? I consider it a challenge. That’s what I want to write. And honestly sometimes it’s not about making a rational decision. Sometimes it comes down to what will get me writing again.

I’m going to be careful with the sequel. I am setting some rules, chief among them: I won’t touch, fix or otherwise alter what has already been written. Novel #1 is in quarantine and official canon (unless an agent/editor somewhere down the line wants changes). Novel #2 is open for business.

Tl;dr – my ultimate hope for this year is to write the first drafts of two novels: the sequel to my first novel, and the time-travel novel I’m calling Overmorwe. There is only one way to know if I can do this: try.

Blog

When I have a topic to get off my chest – from observations I made about older male sci-fi readers to my excitement about The Rise of Skywalker to the unpleasant happenings in the British Royal family – my first instinct is to create a thread on Twitter. Because – I tell myself – it’s quick and easy. It will reach an audience in real time. It will start a conversation. That’s the hope anyway.

Again, these long threads don’t start many conversations. And over the last few months I’ve been wondering if my blog was the better platform/soap box. If I’m going to put that much work into long, long threads, I might as well post them where I have more control… where I’m not spitting out words in an obsessive and breathless rush.

A blog post will always be more organized, more professional. Twitter is stream-of-conscious and messy. There is no edit button. That makes it perfect for random spew. A lot of people do write very thoughtful, useful, wonderful posts there, and I’ve learned tons from them. But… I don’t want it to be my first instinct. I don’t want to leave these topics in a raw messy-spew form. That’s why there’s a blog.

Chuck Wendig wrote some encouraging thoughts on blogging versus tweeting last week, which I’ve taken to heart. Blogs may be old school, but they’re still great tools and great practice and a safe space. Read his blog post here. To warn you (again), brace yourself for a little salty language. 😉

In sum, I’d love to produce at least two or three blog posts a month. I don’t know how feasible it will be when I get to drafting, but – again – there’s only one to find out: try.

The Year Ahead

So, these are my signposts (not resolutions) for 2020:

◽ Reestablish writing routine: mornings, evenings, quiet time at work.

◽ Query.

◽ Write the first drafts of two novels. Plan out future projects.

◽ Write (at least) two posts for Joy & Moxie each month. Blog more, tweet less.

◽ Continue studying Old English.

◽ Invest in friendships.

◽ Take time to rest my brain with little hobbies, more books to read (less television), and exercise.

◽ To learn to give myself grace when life doesn’t go according to plan, practice gratitude, never stop learning.

That’s all for now! Happy (16-day-old) New Year!

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