I always have lofty aspirations for myself this time of year. The ghosts of resolutions past are still whispering their warnings in my ear, yet I routinely ignore them and set ridiculous new goals. Do I ever keep my New Year’s Resolutions? Does anyone? Or am I just trying too hard, searching for the golden apple that will make me feel proud, complete, and validated?

This year I once again vow to write. As I did last year. And the year before. Last year I actually worked on an outline and characters for my novel, yet I chickened out when I couldn’t find my main characters motivation. Perhaps she is suffering from the same lack of confidence and skill as her would-be creator.

I used to be an excellent writer. Now I find myself looking up every last punctuation placement and I can’t remember what imperfect clauses or dangling participles are to save my life. I suppose I am ahead of the masses a little bit since I at least know they are not cartoon characters or reality show stunts.

But today I actually did it–did something at least. I sent in my first essay to be considered for publication in 20 plus years. Granted, it was only a 250 word travel essay, but it is a quantifiable start. And if our local paper selects my work (and I don’t see how they can’t–the crap they sometimes print is embarrassing) I will be a published writer.

I have been writing down ideas for a new novel for a few days now. There are scraps of paper littering my desks, countertops, and nightstands. Hopefully, I will be able to decipher my writing–thank God for keyboards. It is a start. Now to see if I can finish.