Every year around December, I make a schedule — a list of writing goals for the year, what project I plan to do when, any applicable due dates, that sort of thing.
And every year, for December I just put Breathe.
Oh, there are project and deadlines most years, in addition to holidays and dayjob things to wrap up, but the most important thing is to just breathe.
This has been a rough year, rougher than most, and pretty much every creative person I know has had a hard time creating. It’s not great, but it’s okay.
We need to be forgiving of ourselves at year’s end; rather than focusing on what’s unfinished and undone (and goodness knows there are a lot of things I intended to do this year and didn’t due to time and health and family and life) we need to shed all that and vow to do better next year.
I know I need to take my own advice. My lament so often is “too many ideas, not enough time.” When asked if I ever worry about running out of ideas, my response is basically, “I could write every day for eight hours a day for the next thirty years and not finish all the ideas I have.” Between all the other life things, it’s getting harder and harder to find an hour or two to write, and there’s a weariness lately that’s set in that makes my brain feel like a perpetual rainy day, dreary and gray and utterly uninspired.
But it’s December. A new year’s coming, with new hopes and goals and things to look forward to, even if it’s looking forward to finishing.
Title quoted from “Year’s End” by Richard Wilbur