About two weeks ago, I starting thinking about resolutions. Why do people make them, what they usually make them for, and whether or not they do any good. Lose 10 pounds, quit smoking, quit drinking, be nicer to our fellow man, drive slower, eat better, spend more timeetc., etc., etc. We all have these thoughts of grandeur that usually wither out around January 15th or so. If we're lucky, they may last through Easter. So I started to think about resolutions, like I do every year around Thanksgiving, wondering if there was something I could do differently or better, or maybe there was something that I've always wanted to do, but could never seem to find the time. Maybe my resolution could be to make the time.
So what do I want to do with my life? You might laugh at that question and wonder what else there is for me to do. I have an education, a good career, a nice house, a great family, what more could I want. That's enough to keep me busy, right? Well, back in the day, I did quite a bit to keep me busy. Music, sports, school, art, writing, boys (of course!). I was always up to something. These days, although Brooklyn is enough to keep me busy nonstop, there are still things I'd like to do. Someday, I'd like to open a bakery. Someday, I'd like to open up a shop and sell my handmade cards. Someday, I'd like to open up a volleyball club. Someday I'd like to write a book, or two or three. (Someday, I'd like to play pro beach volleyball, but I know that's probably a little bit beyond me these days.)
The bakery, the card shop and the volleyball club are probably a little out of my reach, until I find someone who can invest and give me start-up capital. So I'm left with the "do-it-yourself" kind of projects. Writing. You don't need investors to do that, not really a lot of start-up capital needed. I guess in order to write a book, you have to have patience. And determination. I have those things, I just tend to get sidetracked- by Brooklyn, by the job, by life. And then there are those pesky little things like actually sitting down to write and what to write about, and then there's the editing.
I've heard that you should write what you know. Fiction or non-fiction, you write what you know. Then I heard somewhere else that if you want to write a book, you should sit down and write a page a day. Doesn't matter what you write about, just make sure you write a page a day. In one of those "how to" books, it says not to edit until you are all done. (That's just one of my issues, that I keep going back over what I have written, trying to edit it all of the time.)
So, in thinking about all of this, I decided that my New Year's Resolution was going to be to sit down and actually write my book. (On a side note, I have two friends that have actually finished books and I am completely in awe of their drive and ability to do it.) I have a ton of ideas. I have journals and notebooks full of ideas, I have lots of things to write about. I just need to nail my backside to a chair once a day and write... something... anything. (I even thought about keeping a diary or journal and just writing something everyday, whether or not it all following the same topic.)
I resolved to do it. I was going to pick one of my topics, I was going to write a book. I had my New Year's Resolution, I was ready to go. As the year dwindled to a close, I thought about it, I planned it out. Was I going to use the laptop and type on the living room couch, watching t.v.? Was I going to use the desktop and close the world out for an hour a day? How was I going to do it, where was I going to do it? I figured those things would come to me as I put fingers to keys. The year was coming to a close, and I was ready.
At some point on New Year's Eve, I remembered my resolution. I remembered my big plans, my dream of putting my thoughts down and making something of them. Then I went back to chasing Brooklyn around, trying to get her down to nap, then getting ready for our dinner out. As we sat through a steak dinner and then danced around and had a few drinks with friends, resolutions were the farthest thing from my mind. As we drove home with a sleeping baby girl, I never once considered my book. After we convinced her that 1:30 a.m. was not a good time to play in her playroom, and looking forward to sleeping in, the last thing I wanted to do was think, about anything.
And so, New Year's Eve rolled into New Year's Day, and 2009 began. No worries, right? It was the first. Plenty of time to sit down and write something. At least 12 whole hours of being awake, time to write something. Then the Rose Bowl Parade was on, then we went out for lunch and a few errands. (Target, anyone?). Then the Rose Bowl Game was on. We tried to get B to nap somewhere in there too. Then I finished wrapping up the last of the holiday gifts and boxing them up. Then I got started on dinner. Then we played with B, then we put her to bed, then I watched a few back episodes of Without a Trace, and then... and then... and then... and then I went to bed. And fell asleep. And had completely random and weird dreams, the stuff that movies- or novels are made of. And then it was the 2nd. And then I realized that I hadn't written a thing down yesterday. Not a darn thing.
Ah well. Realization sets in. The resolution is out the window, and it took less than 24 hours. So much for the resolutions. But, as with things like resolutions, there are no "real" rules. There's nothing that says that if I fall down, I can't get back up and try again. There's nothing that says that because I failed once, I can't try again. So I shall try. I will endeavor once more to actually sit down and write something, just a little something, even night. Maybe when I'm done, I'll get lucky and someone else will actually want to read it. Maybe when I'm done, I'll get lucky and find an agent who might want to sell it for me. Maybe. Oooh. Maybe, I could sell my book, and then use the money I make as my start-up money for my card shop or bakery or volleyball club. Ooooooh.
Well, it's good to dream. Dreams are what life is made of, I suppose. And we all have to start somewhere. Even if it's somewhere as small and simple as writing a little bit each day. So you'll have to excuse me, while I go write something down.