It is 2013.
A New Year for most of us who aren’t time travelers. This is the time that we’re all making plans and dreams, resolutions and promises to ourselves on what we hope to accomplish in the new year.
Lose weight. Quit smoking. Drink less. Laugh more. Beat that addiction to reality shows.
I make no resolutions. I only decide what I need to do in the coming months.
I plan to finish rewriting one manuscript in one month, then finish my YA mystery by this summer and simultaneously start research on my new adult mystery.
Am I insane? Making all these promises to myself to accomplish all that.
You see, even if it wasn’t the new year, I’d be doing the same thing. Setting writing goals.
With or without the partying (which I did). With or without tuning in to Dick Clark’s New Year’s party (which I did and which is still on TV despite Dick’s passing to my surprise), I have made my plans for what I need to do as a writer.
I am one of those people who must set goals and timelines for myself or nothing will get done. So after putting away all my Christmas décor, which is quite a job, I will tackle the first of my goals and start rewriting my YA manuscript.
I have nothing against New Year’s Resolutions. But they only come once a year.
Setting goals is year round.
It is 2013.