Well, here it is, dinnertime on New Year’s Day, and I’ve already broken several resolutions: I haven’t written anything (except posts to Facebook–those don’t count); I’ve crabbed at my children; I didn’t take Loki for a walk (in my defense, it was a high of just 8 degrees today; it would have been inhumane); I did not take the ornaments off the Christmas tree; I ate two dessert bars from the tray my neighbor brought over Sunday (Bars! Bars! Curse you, bars–too delicious for mere mortals to resist). All in all, it has been a day filled with the sting of failure.

Why do we do this to ourselves every year, this nonsense of making resolutions? What makes us think that, simply because there’s a new numeral at the end of the year, we will do things any differently than we have for the previous 365 days that preceded the big ball-drop in Times Square? I have no answer for that, and now I am filled with disgust at myself for having broken yet another resolution: not to ask myself any more stupid rhetorical questions. Now I am really depressed. (There’s another one broken.) I’d better stop before I hurt myself.

Sometimes I wonder if the real reason we make resolutions each year is because doing so is a socially-accepted form of mass failure. It’s okay to admit to breaking your resolutions because everyone breaks them–you know, misery loves company. Boy, that’s a depressing thought.

On the other hand, maybe the reason we make (and, inevitably, break) these resolutions each year is just a reflection of our dogged need for hope, hope that we can do better, be better.

I would imagine that somewhere between the two lies the truth of the matter.

Well, whatever it is, in the spirit of the day, I resolve now that I will pick my resolutions up off the floor, dust them off and strap them back on. I will grit my teeth and vow that tomorrow I will do better.  Tomorrow, I will write for two hours! Tomorrow, I will be patient with my children! Tomorrow, the cold be damned, I will take my dog for a walk! Tomorrow, I will not eat any chocolate–ha ha ha! I almost had you, didn’t I? Me, not eat chocolate…that’s a good one!

But I will try to do better tomorrow, I swear I will. That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?  New Year’s Day is all about Tomorrow, the national holiday for optimists everywhere, a day to imagine how much better we can do, how much better we can be, on a day other than today, and that sounds pretty good to me.

So here’s to Tomorrow! Happy New Year!

Well, I thought I’d spend some time today doing some actual writing, but once I did all of the catching up from the weekend and worked my way through submissions and query packets for two different literary agents, I find that I now have two minutes before my children will arrive home from school.

Honestly, I feel as though I spend all of the “butt-in-the-chair” writing time that all the writing experts talk about creating query letters! Argh!

All you agents out there, and publishers–isn’t there an easier way? Maybe you could all get together and standardize your formats!

Some of you request a bio; 1 page. Some of you request no bio. Some of you request a bio of 50 words maximum.

Some of you ask for a sample chapter. Some of you specify absolutely no samples unless specifically requested. Some of you ask for the complete manuscript.

Some of you mandate snail-mail submissions only. Some of you are adamant about only accepting e-mail queries.

Some of you say, “Hey, we receive thousands of submissions and queries each month; if we don’t get back to you inside of two months, please feel free to drop us a line.” Some of you say (a bit bluntly, in my opinion), “Don’t call us, we’ll call you. Um, no, on second thought, don’t call us. Ever.”

What is a starving (all right, I’m not starving, I’m actually kind of overfed at the moment after half of a Three Musketeers Bar) writer to do? Is this what you all mean by telling me to write every day?

Honestly, after an afternoon of laboring over this kind of writing, self-publishing is starting to make me drool (or wait, maybe that’s spinal cord damage from sitting hunched over my laptop for too long…)

Sigh. Here comes the bus…

I have been writing like a fiend for the past week, and it feels so good. I know that next week, and next month, I’ll be treated with the blessing of my children’s company, as they are out of school for the holidays, so my writing time will be at a premium.

I am churning out articles at a pretty quick clip, but am hoping I’ll run out of [paying] source material soon (isn’t that a terrible thing to wish?] so that I will be forced to resume work on my novel, which has been languishing in my C drive for weeks now.

That is really frustrating, because the one reader to whom I showed it had a miraculously positive reaction to it, and I am eager to get back to it.

So for today, just a brief update, and the sharing of something I wrote last year for the Professional Editors Network newsletter. I’m dedicating it to all you writers out there. Keep the faith!

‘Twas the cusp of the holidays

And all through the house

One lone figure was stirring

But this was no mouse

Her fingers danced over the keyboard with care

In hopes of crafting a masterpiece there

Her children were finally upstairs, all in bed

While Mom set to paper the dreams in her head

With her coffee grown cold

And a blanket in her lap

Mom was struggling in vain

With the writer’s great trap

For from her stilled keyboard

Came no further clatter

Writer’s block, she knew,

Was the heart of the matter

Away to the window she flew like a flash

Feeling inspiration nose-dive with a crash

The glow from her monitor lit up the room

Imparting a lustre of frustration and gloom

When what to her wondering eyes should appear

But a miniature sleigh, all laden with gear

With a spry little driver, so lively and quick

Great Heavens, she thought, could this be St. Nick?

Swifter than rejection letters his reindeer they came

And the dapper little man called each by name

“Now, Character Development! Now, Tone, Voice, and Diction!

On Dialogue, Plot, Word-Choice, and Great Fiction!

To this stumped writer’s keyboard, at the end of the hall!

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

As writing professors with their red pens do fly

When they tear through a term paper offending their eye,

So straight to her manuscript the proofers they flew

With their sleigh full of gear and St. Nicholas, too

And then, his hooves clattering, Dialogue muttered “Oof,

If I’d written this tripe, I’d leap from the roof!”

Nick spoke not a word, but joined his proofers at work.

“Don’t mind Dialogue,” he whispered, “Sometimes he’s a jerk.”

The Writer withdrew to a spot in the back

Watching the reindeers clackety-clack.

Nick wore a tweed sportcoat, with natty, patched elbows

Enormous bifocals perched high on his nose

His fingers were tarnished with toner and ink

He turned with a smile, gave the Writer a wink

His eyes, how they raced through her work at top speed

His fingers dexterously doing the deed

His brow, how it furrowed at each troublesome ‘graf

“I’m sorry, “the Writer said, “It’s just my first draft.”

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave her to know she had nothing to dread.

“All that this manuscript needs, my dear,

Is a little attention, here, here, and here.”

He edited each page, worked the dialogue over

As his cloven-hoofed proofers munched on some clover

From his sleigh Nick fetched thesaurus and a dictionary

And when at last he was done, his face looked quite merry

“I think if you’ll read the feedback I’ve left,

You will find the suggestions I’ve made are quite deft.

Keep up the good work, and don’t lose your hope.

This is good, but now get some sleep, you big dope!

Like a good stew, your manuscript should simmer;

Have some holiday cheer, go out to dinner.

The longer you stare at it, the harder it is;

You must wait out Writer’s Block—that’s just part of the biz.”

And handing her the new Chicago Manual of Style,

He said “Happy Holidays!” and turned with a smile.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle

They departed her office with the speed of a missile.

But she heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight

“Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good write!”

Well, I just completed and submitted another article. It felt so good to lose myself in my writing for a couple of hours this afternoon. The last week or so has been so very full of doing for others (babysitting, family visits, concerts, Halloween events, veterinarian appointments) that the only writing I’ve done in the past week consisted of my midterm exam in my Graphic Design class and my graduate school admissions essays. The midterm exam was scantron, and the graduate school essays were, for me, fraught with peril–they only served to remind me of my failure to be accepted last year.

However, if I have learned anything these past few years of writing, it is that it is not a swift process nor for those who lack persistence. So, I did for others all last week and part of this; filled in the bubbles on my midterm; and painstakingly crafted what I thought were my best possible chances for grad school acceptance. (Just as with publishers, who often make writers wait three to six months before finding out their fates, the university will not be giving me any immediate gratification–I will not know until deep into the winter of 2010.)

So today, I finally sat back down and wrote something that was, sort of, just for me. It wasn’t work on my novel, but it was work on an article on a topic of my choosing (puppies). It was more fun to write than my essays, more challenging to research than my midterm, but not as thrilling as working on my own stuff.

Now that I’ve put at least one article to bed this week, after a long hiatus, perhaps next week, I’ll get back to the work of my dreams.

5:00 a.m. Let Loki out.

5:10 a.m. Cleaned up Loki pee in foyer.

5:30 a.m. Played with Loki.

7:15 a.m. Woke up from nap on the floor next to Loki. Spent next hour and a half getting kids ready and out the door for school.

9:25 a.m. Walked Loki. Cleaned up Loki poo.

9:30-11:30 a.m. Worked on freelance editing project.

11:30 a.m.-12:15 p.m. Took Loki for a long walk in the pouring rain. Cleaned up more Loki poo.

12:30 p.m. Finally took first shower of the day.

12:45 p.m. Walked Loki. So disappointed–no Loki poo this time.

1:00-3:30 p.m. Completed final polish of manuscript; submitted (per request–keep your fingers crossed) to small independent publisher for review.

3:35 p.m. Realized it was time to go pick kids up from school; had to leave w/out walking Loki.

4:10 p.m. Returned home to walk Loki; cleaned up more Loki poo.

4:45 p.m. Dropped kids off at Religious Education class.

4:45-5:45 p.m. Sat in car working on university application essays, round two.

6:00 p.m. Returned home with kids; walked Loki; cleaned up more Loki poo.

Am currently updating blog, cooking dinner, checking kids’  backpacks for homework to do after dinner, folding laundry, and filling dishwasher.

And people wonder why I haven’t gotten published yet?

Three words: Too much poo.