Last night, Midnight’s Twitter Game Tag was #2014InFiveWords. My entry? “That could have gone better.”
Which is a dumb thing for me to write because, on the whole, 2014 was a hell of a good year, albeit one punctuated by horrible moments of great magnitude. My family went to England and Scotland, I got to race some cyclocross, we got three new cousins added to the family (including my new niece. Hi, kid! I have no idea on what kind of device you’ll be reading this, but I hope you’re doing okay), and my daughter grew like bamboo. My agent sent my little book out the door, I learned all of Bach’s First Cello Suite, and I leveled up in Political Campaigns, Parenting, and Adulting In General. Yay!
Still, I fell into a pretty dark mood in November. Part of it was coming down from working so much during Richard McKinnon’s campaign and getting crushed at the polls. That was followed by the high and immediate crash of World Fantasy (yay, I get to hang out with my friends and eat good food and ride a bikeshare rig around Washington DC! Boo, it all ended way too fast). Toss in a little bout of existential dread (I only have forty more years to do stuff before I’m dead, and then the sun will go supernova in a few billion years, and then the Heat Death of the Universe will render all of this moot, so what’s the point anyway?!?!), the kind I haven’t had since my early twenties, and stuff got just weird. I’m okay now, but I know if I get into that kind of tailspin again, it’s straight to my friendly neighborhood mental health professional to figure out what the hell is going on.
Which brings me to this post. This post, on this site, and everything that’s going to follow. 2015 is the year of The Work. This is the year of getting back to 1,500 words of fiction a day. It is the year of taking on only two pieces of volunteer work (the Wilmont Board and Safe Streets Santa Monica…more on that later). It is the year of studying, of organizing, of doing The goddamn Work, because, if there’s anything I learned in 2014 it’s that not doing The Work is the equivalent of sitting in front of looped reruns of infomericals: it is murdering time, and I am not going to murder time in 2015. I am going to use it. I am going to invest it. I am going to spend my time, and that means not wasting it on petty time-killing bullshit.
So. I have a kid to teach and raise. I have a marriage to enjoy and nurture. I have books to write and sell. I have clear political goals. I don’t know how much of it I’m going to pull off, but I am sure as hell not going to look back on this post twelve months from now and say, “Well, that could have gone better, too.”
Opus Fac. Do The Work.
P.S. Cello, too! Man, there’s going to be so much cello in 2015.