Guilty!

If your life looks like this, perhaps it's time to rethink.

Last week a woman who'd known me for six hours told me I take on too much.

I countered by listing off my few commitments. When I reached a third hand's worth of fingers, I began to wonder if she had a point.

So last night I joined a new craft guild, offered to be their co-chair and to plant a portion of my vegetable garden with spring wheat for a special craft day in July.

I woke up three times during the night with a panic attack.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do any of us? Why is it so damn hard to be good to ourselves and say no?

Is it because I want so much to be liked? Because I have a pathological need to, forgive me, take care of everyone except myself? Because I think NO ONE can (insert activity here) as well as I can?

Does 'why' even matter? Fact is, when you say 'yes' to everyone but yourself, a roomful of Lego is the least of your problems. If there's so much writing on your calendar that you can't actually identify the month, you may want to do what I've decided to do.

Start saying 'no'. Pare down your commitments to those that really matter, to those volunteer positions that you find rewarding and enjoyable, to those activities that build you up rather than breaking you down.

And sleep well.

Okay, okay, okay: New Year's Resolution

Let's get this 2014 party started.

Writing-wise, 2013 was an odd year.

I sold a short story (GAH!) and felt like I was starting something fantastic, at last! But what followed was eight months of... WRITER'S BLOCK.

I deleted more words this past year than ever before, failed NaNoWriMo miserably and my well of ideas completely dried up. Another short story I sent out got a rejection letter that was, well, horrible.

It was so easy in December to bake, work at my paying job, stitch and burrow.

For the first time in years, I made no resolutions for 2014, and that was okay, dammit. I don't have to answer to anyone.

Except myself. Shoot.

So here they are, my New Year's Resolutions:

1. Get running again. Exercise makes even the worst rejections feel like compliments.

2. Write every day. The only way to wake up the Muse is to poke her repeatedly with keystrokes.

3. Collect more rejection letters. Use them to wallpaper the bathroom.

4. Make connections. Use them.

5. Kiss more.

Have you overcome New Year's Resolution Apathy? What goals have you set for 2014?

Now off to do some of that kissing.

And I'm meant to brag. Here's the anthology my story appears in. I'm a bit in awe of the writers I'm sharing space with. Thanks to our great editor, James R. Tuck.

You can purchase the book here. Or come by for tea and a paperback.