Never been one to put stock in New Year’s resolutions, but using it as a mandate, a plot plan, can be helpful in breaking away from habits that aren’t necessarily bad, but as time grows short, wasteful.
Cutting back on the writing. It’s just not good enough. I’ve already pulled away from a writing group. Might seek out another one, but more likely, I’ll just ease out of the image.
A book will be as much in constant reach as my laptop.
The laptop will start reflecting on itself; it’s got some great stuff inside it’s never really had a chance to explore.
While I’ll still write when the mood hits, I’m going to cook, bake, create new things.
I’ll finally pick out a pattern, any pattern and begin to knit that sweater. Yes, I’m going to knit. At least there’s something enduring produced from the effort.
And sew; I’m going to recover the couch, make those drapes, and maybe start working on another quilt. I’ve sewn since I was about eight years old, a third generation seamstress.
I’m going to concentrate on things that please me, and people who do the same. And I’m going to do my best to make them happy.
Closing doors, digging new tunnels.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Good for YOU! Guess I am gonna do the same this year. Seems if “self” is not happy and content, no one around you is either and the world suddenly turns sour. Hope you post pictures and print recipes :-}
I hear you. Life’s too short to spend it all on one thing, especially if that one thing doesn’t provide the satisfaction or rewards you hoped for when you began it. I’m finishing up this novel, and I’ll do my utmost to sell it, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll focus on the next thing, or many smaller projects. I have a backlog of yarn, fabric, house rearranging, cleaning, and recipes to try. Pictures to paint. The list goes on. They call to me, and I’ve been neglecting them to deal with “the book” — the latest in a flailing novel-writing career that took on a life of its own, a spoiled child throwing tantrums it’s too old for. Soon I’ll push it out to make its fortune or not (or it’s off to boarding school with a mean headmaster — tough love). Its mom will have an empty nest to fill with other activities. Some children you can’t wait for them to grow up. 😉
Then again, I could just be cranky.
It’s funny, but the minute I made up my mind to be less obsessive about writing, stories are pounding on the doors in my mind.
But I think it’s necessary to place some deadlines, some goals, some form of limit on something that becomes so all-encompassing without giving back more than satisfaction in doing. I’m feeling better about getting some projects done around the house these past few weeks because there’s something to show for it.