We've heard it many times, but I'm not going to let you forget that a lot can change in a year. If you've recently started on a life change, whether it be motivated by educational, health, economic, or career interests, believe that in a year you'll be in a different place if you stay on track. What helps is checking in every so often to see how far you've come.
It was about one year ago that I started this journey. I'm on many journeys right now, that have kicked off at various points in my life, so to be more specific, December marks the anniversary of my commitment to writing.
Last year, I was laying in bed under a mound of quilts and sheets staring at my computer wishing for a change. The chilly temperature was unrelenting, I had recently moved to a new neighborhood, and the one person I knew in the nabe, my boyfriend, was out of state visiting family for the holidays. I begrudged him and others out of town and their escape from the dank city streets.
I did a Google search for writing groups in Washington Heights that night - I always turn to pen and paper and the like-minded when I'm pouting - and in .33 seconds I linked to Uptown Writers, a self-proclaimed hub for craft, community, and inspiration. Though workshops were not being offered until the new year, their annual Fall Reading reception was upcoming.
On December 10, 2010 I walked uptown alone unsure of who or what to expect. Through a soft flurry of snow, I got up to West 189th Street, to the rented church kitchen bustling with a crowd of thirty(ish) neighborhood folks, made up of professional and amateur writers and their friends and family. I took the outermost seat in an aisle of wobbly plastic chairs. Not too close to the front, not in the last row, either. Before the first speaker went up, a woman next to me introduced herself. Kate, a poet, who's worked in advertising for decades, lives nearby, and was about to read her observational poem concerning birds in a park. I was grateful to have met her, to have help blending in by having someone to talk to.
The night turned out to be well worth my time. I heard some really smart writing, met the instructors, enjoyed wine and cheese from the small yet popular spread. Within a week I signed up for a workshop.
A few months into the new year, I had finally decided to quit my full-time job and pursue my life as a writer without the excuses and distractions I had allowed to cloud my ambitions during the prior seven years. My life and career would only lend themselves to being a writer - whether it be freelance writing or teaching - rather than a blankety-blank who tries to find the time.
Two nights ago, December 9, 2011, the annual reading was once again. As I walked uptown, my mind was battling new anxieties. This time I was scheduled to read. It was my first time ever reading my original work in front of other writers. This year, no picturesque snowfall. I was hopped up on cold medicine, and was scribbling down red-inked edits to my piece up until the moment I entered the room. The rented church kitchen was airier, with a smaller crowd than last year, though many of whom I now knew personally. I re-introduced myself to Kate. Remember me, I asked while pouring wine and snapping off pieces of pretzel.
Eventually, my name was called. And I read. You'd be hard pressed to find a more supportive audience in New York City; mostly made up of my instructors, classmates, and a few bodies I hadn't met yet. I'll always remember when they laughed. No, not at me. With me, or rather with the characters in my short story at right when I hoped they would. For the next couple of months, I'll go over in my head all that was wrong with my delivery (the shaky voice, beet red cheeks, forgetting to check if my shirt wasn't riding up). That's okay. The act of getting up and putting my work out there is what really matters, and marks a defining moment along my path. A moment that I hope was the first of many more.
I got last year's Christmas wish this holiday season. Go get yours.
Be sure to celebrate your milestones, on whichever journey you may be traveling. I have to keep looking at my writing in the same way I look at running. Last year I was jogging two miles a few times per week. On Friday, I ran four and quarter. By next summer, I plan to run in the Queens Half Marathon. That means tripling my mileage. Keep at it. As long as you're improving and experimenting and showing up, time will be your friend.
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