A Blank Page

Every new day is a chance to start over. Even more so for the first day of the year. This year I took my brand new shiny Border's gift card out and bought--guess what?--brand new notebooks! Ah, your heart is beating faster, I can hear it. Thrilling, yes?

Okay, so it's not a stack off the "New Releases" shelf. It's just a notebook or three with empty, blank pages staring at you, demanding ink. But that's what the new year is supposed to represent, isn't it? A new beginning. A chance to finally get it right. Naturally, we'll screw up 2010 just as badly as 2009, but we've got at least one day to dream! That's why we get a vacation day on January 1st. That way, we can say we've gotten through the first day of the year without completely hacking up our lives. No work, no mistakes. You can't mess up your teenagers, because they'll sleep all day. Wives will be taking down the Christmas tree and husbands will be outside ripping down the lights (we don't care if they break, we've got a whole 11 months before they have to go back up).

So here's what you do: go to your nearest Borders, Office Max, or any other notebook seller, and shop. Yes, shop. Do you know how many notebooks there are? You can go with the basic legal pad or lined notebook, or you can go all the way and get Moleskin. I went in between this year and got Piccadilly. One large for home and one medium for the truck. Both have rubber band thingys to hold them closed. You never know when a sudden gust of wind will try to rip them open.

A blank notebook isn't like a blank Word document. Notebooks won't be submitted for publication. You can do anything in there. So no pressure. I started mine with the proclamation that I am, indeed, a writer and set a few goals. Right there on the first page. Now I can't miss it. Do that. Write a letter to yourself on the first page. Be encouraging yet demanding. Set your goals and take no prisoners.

It's a blank page. Just like a new year. You write the story.

What's a Writer?

If I had to choose a word to define myself, other than Christian, husband, and father, it would have to be "writer." The normal people among you would naturally assume I write for a living and, if fact, make a decent income from my chosen craft.

The writers among you know better.

I first decided to write a novel in 1997. I've completed three since. None published. I've had a few magazine articles published, even paid for two of them. But the dream has not yet been fulfilled. I admit, I've allowed myself to become discouraged and even given up for a year or so. During that time I watched several of my friends go on to be published. I'd be lying if I said I weren't a bit jealous. It's all part of the writing life. We simply can't understand why others get published while our own awe inspiring talent goes unnoticed. Never mind the fact that I haven't actually submitted anything in two years. That has nothing to with it, I'm sure.

Here's something I've learned along the way: if I'm feeling sorry for myself, my writing buddies are not going stop and wait for me to pull myself together. Writers aren't coaches. They're herd animals. Keep up and you'll get all the encouragement you need. Fall by the wayside and you're dinner for the lions. Only a fool would stop and wait for you, lest the lions get a double portion.

I hate New Year's resolutions. But I will resolve to re-acquire the tenacity I once held. The drive that made each minor victory a reason to celebrate, because the journey itself made the destination all the more desirable.

Tomorrow is my 43rd birthday. I'm in good health (lost 30lbs. in '09), still a pretty darn good writer, and I have the full support of my family. I'll write another novel, better than the last, and see where it goes. If it goes nowhere, I'll try again. After all, writing makes me a writer. Getting published or not doesn't change that.

The lions will have to sleep tonight.