Wait, what? It’s April, fool. Not January. Why are you saying Happy New Year?
I’m so glad you asked, I will tell you why.
For the past year, I thought I was 33 years old. The day before my birthday this year, I did the very simple math (2014 – 1981 = 33) and realized, I was not turning 34 like I had been thinking I would be, but rather, I was turning 33. I wasn’t aging!
How many people have this kind of luck? I get to do my 33rd year over again! Some might look at it as losing their 32nd year, but I’m a positive type of gal, and I’m going the other way.
This is going to be a great year.
A few updates, in case you only get your news from this here blog (you don’t): My year of rejection is going strong. I’ve had no response from any publishing agency, I didn’t win the contests I entered, and two agents have written me back with very nice letters, but no matter how nice they were, they were still rejections. Keep on truckin’, right? In the meantime, I’ve helped create a writing group that has been beyond inspiring, and have been actively writing and journaling and exercising and eating well and limiting caffeine and reading and watching movies and keeping in touch with friends and can you believe it, I feel the best I’ve felt in years? I’m talking, pre-mono when I was 19.
But that’s because I have a do-over.