A Look Back on Writing in 2019 & 2020 Goals for Writing

Even though 2019 was a rough year, one thing I did really well was making sure I had time to write and I wrote. I did not write every day, but I definitely wrote several times every week. I had been trying that "treat it as a job" approach for over a year, but it wasn't working for me. It sucked all the passion out of writing and I felt guilty if I didn't write during the times I had set aside due to a migraine or whatever. So I decided to try the "I Will Write Every Week" approach. Basically, writing became my place to relax and unwind. I was still writing down times to write in my planner, but it wasn't a, "YOU MUST DO THIS OR YOU FAIL AS A WRITER" type mentality. It was more, "hey, look at all this time you have to write! I know there's a lot going on, but once you get done with the stuff you HAVE to do, look at this fun thing you GET to do." Just a shift in perception and it made all the difference. It also helped that I had/have my writing groups and open mics as deadlines keeping me accountable. This is what I succeeded at this past year:

• Wrote every week
• Wrote every day for November & surpassed the 50,000 word mark for NaNoWriMo
• Sent out one Short Story (It got rejected, but with some pointers on how to fix the story so I'm seeing that as a win)
• Set up and started a Grief Journaling Workshop at the Library
• Continued with the Writers' Word Feast
• Visited an open mic I wasn't running
• Ran The No Shush Salon open mic
• Finished my memoir & gathered readers

Here are my writing goals for 2020:

• Send my memoir to my readers (Edit: DONE)
• Continue writing every week
• Send out writing for publication at least once a month
• Visit other (not run by me) writing groups
• Visit other (not run by me) open mics
• After getting back feedback from readers about my memoir (March 1), Edit it
• Figure out what direction I want to go with my memoir & go there

Listing, part I

Five Emotions:

• First and foremost, sorrow. No, that's not right... SORROW That's better. Well, not better... nothing is better. Everything is worse. (Hence, the sorrow.) It feels like a wet, sticky blanket and it's heavy, oh so heavy. I can't take it off, it shrouds me. There are several very tangible points of sorrow - my cat dying, my sister being crushed to death in her bed by a truck, my other sister losing her home because a truck drove through it, that same sister's dog dying, my missing my chance to go to the International Book Fair, my other cat dying, the five year anniversary of my mom's sudden death, not being nearby for my dad and my sisters - and each one another layer of  heavy, sticky, wet blanket of SORROW. It is constantly with me, heavy and dripping toxic sludge on those around me. I try to keep it all to myself, but I can't. It's too obvious; too prevailing; too consuming. It oozes and drips on all who get too close. It's like a cold... contagious upon exposure.
• Next comes the emotion that is not mine, but is directed at me. While I try to hide my sorrow or even just express it without emotion, it affects them. They can feel it when I am near, hear it in my voice, see it on my face. I can see them reacting to it before I even speak of it. PITY is what their expressions scream out. I hate pity. I always have. It is a deep and soulless emotion. It is the bastard child of arrogance and sorrow. It has little purpose. But sometimes, it's impossible to avoid.
• Third, GUILT. You might notice the missing my chance to go to the International Book Fair wedged in between my sister's dog dying and my cat dying. And I know, I know, I shouldn't feel guilty. But I do. When there are so many horrible things to be sad about, how do I have a right to be sad about that? There are so many worse thing going on in the world and even in my own life. But I am sad and frustrated about it. I also feel that GUILT because I am here in Illinois, far from where the legal proceedings are. I can't be with my sister, I'm not there to stare the guy who killed my other sister in the face. 
• Fourth, ANGER. But, right now, the anger is muted, it's buried in the sorrow, though I see little peeks of it. Anger at life, anger at the asshole who drove the truck, anger that I can't just be there. 
• Fifth is ANGST. According to some dictionary somewhere in internetlandia, "a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general." Now this may seem weird since there is so much closer to home to feel anxious about, and I do, but it does leave one feeling angst about the rest of the world too.