So, I’ve been hibernating in said cave the past month or so. It’s time to rip out the page that was 2018 and start a new one. I have hopes for 2019. Not huge ones but I’m going to work each day toward becoming more organized, more focused, just…more. I want to continue to improve as a writer. I want to get better at marketing. I want to get unfinished projects finished.
I want to be a better wife, mom, “Jammie,” MiL, SiL, and friend.
I want to clean out my office, my closet, the library, and shed the physical and emotional detritus that often weighs me down and holds me back.
Will I accomplish all of this? Probably not. But that’s not the point. The point is to try. If I don’t try, I’m already doomed to repeating the past. That’s an exercise in frustration and insanity. I had enough of that in my life last year.
I’m not making any publishing promises. Last year ended in a creativity black hole. New words just didn’t want to form. The next Red Dirt book releases on my birthday in March (and will be available from Harlequin a month before that if you want it early.) I’m three books behind in other series, plus three rewrites of two previously released books and a compendium volumn. They’ll get done when they get done. No promises beyond that because I think part of the problem was the pressure I put on myself. My main goal this year is to rediscover my creativity and love of storytelling. I lost that last year and it makes me sad.
So that’s where I am here in the opening hours of 2019. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you’ll hang in there for our next ride. Happy New Year.