Last night, I went to sleep hoping I could avoid the icy drive in the morning and sit at home with my work laptop, processing documents in my pajamas. Alas, the expected snow did some half-hearted acrobatics and failed to stick the landing, and by the time I slid onto my porch it was little more than a scraping of white icing on the roof next door. I was driving to work after all.

I live in the South, where asking people to drive in snow and ice is like asking a cat to walk when he's wearing a collar for the first time--a combination of tragic and hilarious. I don't claim to be much better, though I do know which way to turn the wheel if I start to slide. I wasn't surprised when, halfway to work, traffic slowed to a crawl.

I spotted flashing lights, but the smell of gasoline was the first indicator this wasn't the usual fender-bender. When my lane stopped, I glanced between the inching cars. The blackened husk of an overturned car steamed from inside a ring of emergency vehicles by the side of the road. There was no fire anymore, but it was clear the car had been blazing not too long before, though the shape of it was mostly intact. I hoped the driver and any passengers had made it out.

It was suddenly strange to think my largest concern not ten hours before was whether I could stay in my pajamas. Someone else has lost a car, possibly lost a love one; my day-to-day concerns can't compare to that. What if it had been me in that car? Would I be satisfied with my last petty concerns? Everything changes in an instant.

That sobering understanding got me thinking. I need to improve my way of living, because I don't want to have any regrets should my instant come. That may seem morbid to some, but when you're unhappy with how things stand in your life, the thought of not having the opportunity to change it is a bitter but strong motivation.

2012 saw two of the worst creative crashes I've ever had, brought on by my inability to adjust to a demanding work schedule and maintain a level of creativity I was happy with. I bit off more than I could chew, and I choked on it. Twice.

I began to doubt my ability to write well enough, revise fast enough, be organized enough to ever publish. I warred against a self-image no longer reflected in the 35 lbs I gained since leaving Japan or the skin problems I'd never had as a teen. I was too tired to write when I got home, but too busy trying to write to take care of myself or contribute to the chores at home consistently, which made me feel like a wretched slob.

I started personal training. It went well for a few months. I started Fit-2-Write. We managed three episodes before I hit my first crash.

I was scheduling every part of my day down to my two 15-minute breaks at work. I was doing two personal training lessons a week after work, D&D on a third, and trying to edit and post two podcasts. Also, I went to StellarCon, ConCarolinas, Sammy's wedding, and BaltiCon all before May. Saturday mornings, I was taking a class on Google+ with Cat Rambo. I was trying to revise the first 100 pages of The Mark if Flight, write a short story, read and comment on two short stories a week, update my blog, and plan out my next book and the revisions for HELLHOUND.

Then this happened: Do You Want to Do My Laundry?

Despite the playful tone, this post was coming on the back of a serious meltdown after a couple of major disappointments. I felt like I would never "get it together". I still feel like that.

I dropped everything, and when I'd finally stopped crying log enough to look at the detritus at my feet, I had no idea how to pick it all back up again. I'd latch onto something, wade a couple feet through the rest, and drop it again. I couldn't let go of any of it, but I couldn't figure out how to clean the mess of my creative life without shoving it all to the curb.

It was tough to fish out the things that mattered to me the most, and I felt unspeakably guilty for letting the others rest.

At the same time, 2012 was a year of many steps forward: I gained what felt like a whole new world of friends after meeting the other folks in the podcasting community face-to-face at BaltiCon. I hammered out two short stories, a novelette, the first six chapters of a new book, and yet another opening for The Mark of Flight, which is now beginning to resemble something like a pretty good book. I made a carved leather hat that actually looked like what I had in mind. I asked to be on panels at StellarCon and BaltiCon and was accepted. I was invited to attend and speak at New Media Expo. I took a couple of trips by myself and with friends, just because. I started kayaking again, bought a bike, and got a new car that makes me super happy.

That said, I refuse to have another year where the lows are as low as 2012's. So I did some soul-searching and tried to figure out what goals I could make this year that would help me live with fewer regrets. I'll split them up into personal and creative.

2013 GOALS

Personal

Get healthier - exercise, eat better, figure out the energy situation, ride my bike, relax
Go out and do things. With other human beings. And not just because I can use it in a story someday.
Spend more time outside doing things I enjoy, like biking or kayaking or camping.
Do more to maintain the apartment
Consistently pay all bills on time
Pay down credit card
Fill the well
Volunteer

Creative

Worry less about 'making it'
Chill, before this shit gives me heart problems
Finish first draft of Heretic's Resonance
Get Pendragon Variety - Issue#1 released
Make Season 2 of Pendragon Variety
Keep making friends who are awesome, supportive, and inspiring
Query MoF
Read more

I don't know if I'll be able to do all these things, and I'm almost certain I won't do them consistently. There's a certain measure of cognitive dissonance to pursuing your dreams during an economic recession. Last year it was cacophony. This year, we're gonna try to find the right key.

What are your personal and creative goals for 2013? Did you suffer any setbacks or disappointments last year? What improvements do you want to make?

My cat runs my life.

Scribe’s Average Work Day

7:30 - Wake up to cat massaging face to life with claws.

8:00 – Zombie-crawl out of bed. Trip over cat on way to dresser.

8:03 - Convince self pajama pants are not, in fact, business-casual.

8:10 – Say prayer of thanks for grandmothers who give coffee-pots with timers. Get: coffee, food, leg shredded by cat.

7:12 – Feed cat.

8:30 – Leave house (attempt #1). Inevitably forget something. Usually coffee. Or shoes. Surprising fact: slippers are ALSO not business-casual).

8:35 - Leave house (attempt #2). Usually go anyway.

8:40 – Drive to work. Have iPhone clipped to sun visor, set on voice-memo. If inspiration strikes, RECORD AWKWARD MEMO.

9:30 – Arrive at work. Inevitably leave something in the car (usually coffee or phone…or shoes…)

Now, it would be terrible of me to say that I sometimes glance down at my phone to check twitter or facebook, but I think that’s just something that most social-media savvy workplaces come to accept. Rather than taking a smoke-break or filing my nails, I stop by the “Internet Water-Cooler” and take a few swallows. The important point is this: I try never to let it interfere with my productivity.Try.

1:00 – Lunch.

Lunch is a key time. I pack my lunch so that I can surreptitiously eat it before my lunch hour, and then I whiz off to Starbucks from noon to 1:00 and write, outline, read, or catch up on blogs. Sometimes I’ve had a thought brewing since the car-ride that morning that I can’t wait to get down on paper. I have to brainstorm in a visual/tangible format, because I don’t do well just brainstorming in my ...brain. #inkstorm #ADD

5:30 - FREEDOM.

6:35 - Arrive home.

6:36 - Feed cat.

Once I get off work, time flows in a weird way. My first priority is usually food for myself and my cat. After that, it depends on the day. If I'm going to the gym, I don't start writing until I get home, because I'm one of those people who doesn't like interruptions. In any given workweek, there are about thirteen possible hours (more if I sacrifice sleep) when I could be writing or revising. Of course, a lot of these are used up in bathing, decompressing, blog-writing, or things that don't actually require much brain-power, like watching vlogs on youtube (I recommend vlogbrothers, charlieissocoollike, mikakitty, wheezywaiter, and rhettandlink (NC represent!).

The manuscript - I haz stolen it.

On a slow week, I might spend five of those actually writing or revising. On a good week, I'll spend five hours in one NIGHT revising or writing. It all comes down to stress-level, energy level, and amount of sleep. Also, my cat has a large amount of control over my writing. He decides when it's no longer time to write, or when I need to take a break.

Honestly, if I'm on a roll, my cat is the one who reminds me it's time to get up and take care of that nagging call of nature. I like to imagine him in a coal gray suit, and reminding me in true Kazuo Ishiguro fashion, "Miss Harris, I believe you might be more comfortable with an empty bladder." More likely, he's wearing sparkly black skinny jeans and too much hair-gel, snapping his fingers and saying: "Bitch, drag that string across the ground before I cut you."

Scribe's Subconscious

Either way. I don't mean to be masochistic when I write, but sometimes I feel like a SIM, and my story turns off the "free will" controls. I imagine there's a subconscious SIMS2 version of me doing the pee-pee dance in the back of my brain. You KNOW you know what I'm talking about.

Do you have a writing schedule? Do you get carried away when you write and revise? Is writing a priority for you, or do you let other distractions get in the way? Free will on or off?

Goals for 2013

Scribe's Average Work-Day