Looks like it’s time to wrap up another year. But there won't be a Best Of list. Why? Because I have a creative memory rather than an accurate one. Retrospectives give me trouble. If I were a witness at a trial, my testimony would go like this:
Attorney: “And what movie were you seeing when the incident occurred?”
Me: “The one about baseball.”
Attorney: “Can you remember the title?”
Me: “Well… it was about money, and was set in California.”
Attorney: “Every movie set in California is about money.”
Me: “It had Brad Pitt in it, and he still looks really good.”
Attorney: “You mean Moneyball.”
Me: “I told you it was about money.”
Another reason I can’t do a Best of… I genuinely enjoy every book I read or movie I see. I remember plots fondly. I fall in love with settings or characters. I devour one kind of book and avoid some genres completely. So which book makes the list? A book I think is perfectly told and luminous, but took a direction I didn’t particularly like or is in a genre I don’t often read? Or a book with flaws I overlook because it hit all my hot buttons? Furthermore, does my opinion matter to anyone? Probably not. Therefore…
Here’s what I have to say about 2012.
What a great year!
I made some amazing friends… you guys know who you are… and look forward to another year of laughs and deep conversations about guy on guy love, what makes shifters hot, tentacle sex, and the craziness that goes with being a published writer.
I learned a really valuable lesson about protecting my work. [You can read that post HERE.] Talk about being kicked in the nuts. Gee, thanks, 2012. But you know what? My hard lesson has served as a wake up call to other writers and maybe will help prevent the same thing from happening to them.
I learned how to use Twitter and Facebook. Don’t laugh. My sons have been trying to get me to do this for years. They get a laugh now about how I learned to do it for my writing career. That I have followers at all makes them laugh even harder. Mike the Conqueror now has me using Skype and Google Hangouts. One night one of his brothers was obviously partying when he popped in, saw me, and said, “Holy shit! Mom!” and popped back out. He popped back up a little later minus the girl. It’s been fun.
I saw my work published. I sold four books and three short stories, and have more books out on submission for 2013. Having readers for my stories is a lifetime dream—and I do mean lifetime—for me. I’ve wanted to be a published writer since I was a skinny, scrawny 13 year old girl who preferred writing stories about heroic hunks to hanging out with the neighborhood boys. So thank you, 2012!
So there you have it. What 2012 meant to me. Now... bring on 2013!
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