Farewell to 2019

It's the end of another year. This time it's also the end of a decade.

I would like to think that I'm not only older but much wiser. But I keep forgetting the lessons I thought I had learned.

This year I forgot the lesson I should have learned about saying "yes". I have this superstition about not answering the door when opportunity knocks. I'm always afraid that I will miss a chance to do something that would be life-changing. As superstitions go, this one isn't irrational. For example, I found a publisher for my Lizzie Stuart mystery series because I said "yes" when I was invited to take part in a mystery/detective fiction conference in New York City -- and then "yes" (or, at least, a hesitant "okay") when I was asked to lead a tour group on a walking tour of Harlem (a place that this Virginian had never been). A friend who knew Harlem came along. . . and, as it happened, a criminal justice professor from the Southwest was in New York, came to the conference, and joined the walking tour. While we were engaging in shop talk, we both admitted that we were would-be mystery writers. It was he who later passed on a tip about the crime fiction imprint that a Southern publisher was launching. So, you see, if I had said "no" my mystery series might never have been published. That's why I am superstitious about not saying "yes." But this year I should have thought more about what I could get done.

That brings me to that other lesson. We all know that one -- assuming that life will go along as one planned with calendar in hand. That there will be no snow, no household emergency, no two-week cold, no . . . this month, it was Harry, my cat. A bacterial infection and not eating. One weekend when we make an emergency trip to a vet clinic, the following Monday when I had to take him to his own vet because he wasn't eating. He got a shot and a couple of days later was eating again, but had a cold. Now the cold seems to be over. But I'm stopping to play when he wants to because I relieved that he's healthy again. Life happens and writing schedules fall by the wayside.

The third lesson is about staying organized while juggling multiple balls in the air. Being organized ensures that you don't waste valuable time trying to find something -- an article, a book, a website -- that is crucial to the project. Once, for a week or two this year, I was on the verge of being organized. Then I had to get to work on something that was more urgent. But what I should have learned is that I need to make the time to be organized. I have gone beyond the point of knowing what is in my stacks of papers. Before 2020 begins, I need to go through those piles and make sense of them.

But there was one lesson that I'm glad I didn't learn. I have been trying to be more productive by forcing myself to plow ahead even when I'm not happy with what I'm writing. This year, I missed a real deadline for a nonfiction book and deadline or two I had self-imposed while my agent waited for the thriller I'm writing. But all of my false starts have produced results. I've been digging deeper than I intended for the nonfiction book and made some fascinating discoveries. With the thriller, a few days ago I had an idea that solved my POV problem. Instead of a book written from the points of view of four characters, I am now down to two. These are the two characters who have the strongest voices and the clearest views of the events in the book.

 So I'm going into 2020 and the new decade, older and slightly wiser.

Happy New Year to my Type M mates and to all of you who join us here!

The season of hope

As I’ve wished people a happy and prosperous new year, I’ve gotten back comments more than once on how bad 2014 was, not just for world, but personally for the people to whom I was speaking.

But last Thursday, we all turned the page on a bummer year and opened up a brand new 12 months, everything bright and shiny again.

I don’t know about you, but I always find the turning of the year to be a hopeful time. Yeah, it’s a reminder that I’m another year older and more personal doors seem to be closing than opening these days, a process sure to accelerate as the years move forward, but for every bad, there’s a good. That’s just the way life moves, and when you look at the bare bones of it, you can either embrace changes that naturally occur or spend your time shaking your fist at fate. Faced with that stark choice, I prefer to look at the hopeful side.

Like many, every year I set goals for myself. This year, they’re mostly physical ones. I’d like to lose weight (and how many years have I been saying that?). I would like to walk more, maybe play a little pick-up ball (or at least play catch with my wife or sons — and now, also my grandson!), simply get out and about rather than allowing myself to be chained to my computer. That’s a really worth (and sensible) goal, don’t you think?

Finding time for writing remains a challenge. I waste too many valuable minutes every day, allowing myself to get distracted by things that really don’t need doing. Since I’m usually up ahead of my wife, you would think that would be an ideal time to write. Unfortunately, every morning, I fire up the computer and (of course) wind up checking the overnight news, wishing friends a Happy Birthday on Facebook, stuff like that all worthy, but also not necessary when there’s writing to be done. The internet is a seductive place, and if you’re naturally curious as I am, it’s a real danger to moving my writing forward. Solution? Don’t turn on the computer; just sit down with pen and paper and lay down some more deathless prose. Sure, it will take longer doing it that way, but as I’ve said here more than once, I find I think more clearly when having to get my thoughts down more slowly. The proof is that my “manual” writing needs far less refining than when I type my words directly into the computer.

Being a musician, I have to practise daily. (“You’ve been playing how long and you still have to practise?”) Unless you’ve taken music past a certain point, you probably don’t know what a joy it is to spend quality time with your instrument of choice. Currently for me, that means the trumpet, something I never really set out to learn, by the way. There is a joy in making music as well as a real rush in being able to perform in front of an audience. In order to do either successfully and at a high level, that means slogging it out every day. I’ve played particular scales and exercises tens of thousands of times and I still manage to get a kick out of doing them. Why? I can’t really tell you. Sure, I could plod through them because I know how necessary they are, but it goes beyond that. I simply enjoy buzzing my lips at the small end of a brass instrument to receive a glorious sound out the big end. It’s as simple as that — even if I’ve done the same set of notes every day for forty years.

This year, I have a lot I want to accomplish, and to do that, I need to be very organized to make the most of each 24-hour daily allotment. To that end, I’m decided to make a daily “To-Do List”, organized into “must-dos”, “need to dos”, and “like to dos”. I’m also writing down my new year resolutions, but that’s more for historic reference next New Year’s Eve — just to see how I did.

The bad part of being faced with too many things to do in too little time is that you never can allow yourself to stop and smell the flowers. A little downtime is a good thing, too. Somehow I have to figure out how to schedule that in — without it feeling like I’m scheduling it in.

In the end, life is always a matter of balance, isn’t it?