Happy 2018: New Year’s Resolutions

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Photo via Pixabay

Happy New Year, folks! I hope 2018’s gotten off to a wonderful start for you.

For a number of reasons 2017 wasn’t the most productive year for me, nor the most conducive in terms of writing and self-improvement. But I really do feel the gears shifting for 2018 and I’m hopeful I can meet some milestones I’m setting for myself. Namely:

  1. Finishing my sequel. I’m 10 chapters in and I think I have another 5 to go. Fingers crossed that the manuscript can be completed by Q1. See point number 4.
  2. Getting an agent/publisher. I’m keener to explore the traditionally published route this time, but self-publishing may still be an option—especially if I get a grant again.
  3. School Tour. Are you an educator, principal or school administrator? Book me for a storytelling session and drawing workshop. I’m populating my calendar with visits to local and international institutions, and looking forward to meeting literature-loving kids.
  4. Making writing a priority. I didn’t carve out and commit to proper ‘writing days’ in the past year, which explains a lot about my output (or lack thereof). Toward the end of 2017, when things began to wind down at work, I had more opportunities to write, and I was amazed at how easily the pace picked up and how quickly the ideas translated into prose. I suppose writing is like working a muscle—the more you put it to use, the more naturally it flows. Previously I’d always felt so ‘stuck’ and unmotivated because writing was something I did only after I’d completed my ‘more important’ assignments and chores. And how do people normally feel about that very last item on their to-do list? Less than enthused, I’d imagine. So yeah, writing will take precedence this year and I will give it the attention it deserves.
  5. Less time on social media. YouTube, Facebook and Instagram have definitely been blackholes into which chunks of my free time disappeared, and I’m determined to limit this unproductive use of my mental bandwidth. Besides, FOMO is real.
  6. Rejigging the spiritual life. An extension of point number 5, which is to unplug from the noise and spend more time in prayer and contemplation. 2017 was exceptionally anxiety-riddled (actually my entire life has been), exacerbated by health scares and feeling overwhelmed by a combination of work and mom stuff. So the spiritual life fell by the wayside somewhat, especially when I chose to numb myself with brainless distractions (back to point number 5 about too much time on social media).
  7. A book club. I read voraciously, my bookshelves are bursting at its seams, and my Kindle is about to explode. So it makes sense to either start my own book club or join one. Perhaps something to explore with the schools?
  8. Decide what I want to do with my ongoing Everything Takes Forever series. Adapting it into an e-book was my original intention, but I wonder if I should explore building a larger narrative around it and structuring it as a non-fiction chapter book.

What about you? Do you believe in New Year’s resolutions and have you set any? Somewhere, somehow, I assume everyone’s striving always to be a better version of themselves, so here’s hoping 2018 takes us one step closer to that.

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What Now?: Three Things I’ve Learned Post-Publication

Last Christmas, we did a “Teys in Pajamas” photoshoot to celebrate TIP turning one. Photo by Eadwine Lay of Plush Photography.

It’s been almost two years since Tea in Pajamas was first published, and what a ride it’s been! Today’s post will the first in a series entitled #WhatNow?, in which I document personal insights from my post-publication and sequel-writing journey.

A basic premise: I thought I’d learned plenty from the road toward publication, but in all seriousness, it’s the post-publication journey that’s kicking my ass. Throw into the mix the grand endeavor to write a sequel one can only hope will live up to the first, if not outdo it, and things get even trickier.

To even begin to describe what I mean, here are three major lessons I’ve learned since the time ‘Tea in Pajamas’ saw the light of day.

1. It’s a whole new world post-publication

Wait, what? Isn’t print publication the be-all and end-all of an author’s publishing trajectory? To some degree, yes. I mean, you gotta have an actual product to talk about in the first place. But that’s also when the real work begins: the part where you have to get out there and hustle remind people that: 1) you exist; and 2) you’re still writing.

It’s all well and good to create Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads and Pinterest accounts—not to mention an official website—but devoting time and resources to keeping them updated with fresh content is a whole other animal.

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Happy birthday, Rachel

Illustration by Luzia Bione, via Pinterest

Hi, I’m still here. Sorry that I went dark for awhile.

The truth is, I started drafting this post 2 (almost 3) months ago, but I was never really satisfied with it, feeling it somehow did not convey what I wanted to say. So I edited and re-edited, and eventually got bored and left things dormant. And the thing about writing is, if you don’t carve out a specific time to do it—or if you do, but don’t honor the commitment—other stuff comes up, and life just gets in the way. That’s basically what happened.

This post was supposed to be a birthday letter to myself. But the more I wrote on, the more I hated it. Everything was coming off as self-indulgent and disingenuous, and I was beginning to bore myself. I’d love to clap myself on the back and feel happy about how ‘far’ I’ve come, but those were yesterday’s battles; today has its own unique ones, so does tomorrow, and so forth. What’s today’s hindsight gonna be worth five or ten years down the road? No, I wouldn’t repeat the Hallmark-card-worthy spiel about not sweating the small stuff, savoring every tiny moment, and how everything works out in the end. Who doesn’t know that? Nobody. Who’s tired of hearing it? Everybody. There would no cheesy letter to my past or future self.

But still, I was fascinated with the idea of writing a plain, old-fashioned letter. If I only knew who to address it to.

Around this time, I was reading and quite enjoying Claire Fuller’s Swimming Lessons. In it, the protagonist, Gil Coleman, has a houseful of books stuffed randomly with letters from his wife, Ingrid, who disappeared mysteriously years ago. He’s ailing and dying of cancer, and his two daughters come home to take care of him after a mishap. Throughout the novel, the author intersperses what’s happening in the present with Gil and his daughters, with Ingrid’s letters. Readers get to read first-hand the contents of these beautifully written and wonderfully detailed letters, stuck in the most random of books ranging from classics to cooking instruction manuals—but never is it mentioned whether the intended recipient—Gil—ever discovers them. In particular, one of these letters is about Gil and Ingrid’s relationship, written in reverse chronology, from the broken-down state of their marriage all the way back to their giddy courtship days. I thought that whole idea was just amazing, and though I will never hope to pull off such a feat as masterfully as Claire Fuller does, it inspired me and got me thinking.

And so I wrote a letter. To nobody.

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