Reflection for the New Year: 2021 Year-End Review
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"Demon with Typewriter" |
3 stories of my own found their way into print in the anthologies The New Normal, In the Red Room, and Star Crossed, and my story, "Oscar Ambrose's Magicpedia Guide to Modern Mirror-Making" found a home on The Angry Noodle. It also provided me with the first money I've ever made from my fiction: a kingly sum of $30. I also, to my glee, had one story accepted into the 42 Stories anthology, which is still taking submissions for those interested.
In the last few months, even, I seem to have discovered a means of both maintaining a steady routine of writing to stay productive and keep my mental health in good working order. If possible, assuming whatever gods may be don't have it out for me or my routines, I plan on continuing this. It keeps me at work on my writing, and staying at work on my writing keeps me happy. This, to me, is the secret to the good life.
To top things off on the professional front, I also, at long last finished the first draft of my novel, A Sword Named Sylph, after struggling to complete it for 4 years. As of this writing, my revision on it progresses steadily. I'm already ahead of schedule of what I wanted to try and finish before year-end, and I hope to maintain my present consistency into the new year. If I'm lucky, I might have a query-able draft before my next birthday. At present though, I'm just taking it one day at a time.
(Incidentally, have you noticed that, when you're in an extended state of contentment, of inner peace and joy, that time seems to move more slowly? It's rather fun.)
As for what's coming in 2022, I haven't a clue.
I do know that my colleagues with whom I worked to assemble The New Normal have plans to release another anthology at the end of this coming May. I've already drafted my story (or maybe stories) for that project, and I've received feedback, which I intend to work into my next round of revision.
I also know that, barring any horrible things preventing it (they do come out of nowhere, you know), I plan on attending my first WorldCon. Next year, the World Science Fiction Convention is happening in Chicago, Illinois, a short train-ride north of my hometown. I intend to go; it's high time I meet some of my literary colleagues and fellow SF nerds in person. We've all spent the better part of 2 years sheltering in place; it's time for us to live again.
One final thing. My family suffered a few losses these last couple years. I've also lost a few friends. I won't go into detail for fear of embarrassing anyone, but I will say this. In the wake of these losses, I have the urge more than ever to live more fully, to keep doing what makes me happy, and to pursue my ambitions with greater energy. There's a concept my friend Harlequin Grim (because he's the right kind of twisted) adores called Memento Mori, Latin for, "Remember that you have to die." Every time someone in our lives shuffles off the mortal coil, it's a sad day, but it's also a reminder to us. One day, we'll be the one people will grieve, the person in the box or urn (or in my case, a coffee can will do). (Unless you're an asshole, then people will just shit-post about you on social media.) Because it's inevitable, we owe it to ourselves, and to those who are no longer here, to live fully.
If you haven't begun to, if you pressed pause on your love of life due to the pandemic, I urge you to consider pushing play. Yes, the threat is still real. Yes, we're not out of this mess yet. But, we now know how to cope with it much better than we did 2 years ago. It's time to stop worrying; it's time to start living.
I hope you've all had a good holiday season so far. I you have one, may your god go with you into 2022. I'll see you there.
As for what's coming in 2022, I haven't a clue.
I do know that my colleagues with whom I worked to assemble The New Normal have plans to release another anthology at the end of this coming May. I've already drafted my story (or maybe stories) for that project, and I've received feedback, which I intend to work into my next round of revision.
I also know that, barring any horrible things preventing it (they do come out of nowhere, you know), I plan on attending my first WorldCon. Next year, the World Science Fiction Convention is happening in Chicago, Illinois, a short train-ride north of my hometown. I intend to go; it's high time I meet some of my literary colleagues and fellow SF nerds in person. We've all spent the better part of 2 years sheltering in place; it's time for us to live again.
One final thing. My family suffered a few losses these last couple years. I've also lost a few friends. I won't go into detail for fear of embarrassing anyone, but I will say this. In the wake of these losses, I have the urge more than ever to live more fully, to keep doing what makes me happy, and to pursue my ambitions with greater energy. There's a concept my friend Harlequin Grim (because he's the right kind of twisted) adores called Memento Mori, Latin for, "Remember that you have to die." Every time someone in our lives shuffles off the mortal coil, it's a sad day, but it's also a reminder to us. One day, we'll be the one people will grieve, the person in the box or urn (or in my case, a coffee can will do). (Unless you're an asshole, then people will just shit-post about you on social media.) Because it's inevitable, we owe it to ourselves, and to those who are no longer here, to live fully.
If you haven't begun to, if you pressed pause on your love of life due to the pandemic, I urge you to consider pushing play. Yes, the threat is still real. Yes, we're not out of this mess yet. But, we now know how to cope with it much better than we did 2 years ago. It's time to stop worrying; it's time to start living.
I hope you've all had a good holiday season so far. I you have one, may your god go with you into 2022. I'll see you there.
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