Another Year
posted by Neil Gaiman
We landed in Brisbane 24 hours late, because a set of plane delays had made us miss the flight we were meant to be on, and I started fading away during the drive out here. (I wasn't driving. I was entertaining Ash, mostly.) By the time we got to the house I was gone. I need to sleep, I thought, and isn't it odd that in such a hot part of Australia in high summer it is so cold that I'm shivering...
And then I was mostly asleep for 3 days, with a fever caused by something that was probably a really nasty flu. Then it became a chest infection. During the short waking periods I would read volume 3 of Henry Mayhew's LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.
Three days of fever dreams filled with Guy Fawkes Men and Penny Mousetrap makers was entertaining, but it wasn't getting better. So yesterday evening, I went in to the Woodford Festival to see the doctor there. By luck, I caught the song Amanda dedicated to me, then went home, took the medicine, slept, woke up, thought I really need to write a blog for the New Year, and went straight back to sleep...
Which is why I'm writing a New Year's wish on New Year's Day. Although it's New Year's Eve still in the US (and in the UK as I type this, but it will already be next year there by the time I post it).
It's been a strange, hard year for so many of us. I find myself thinking of the old Jack Benny radio shows. Particularly during World War Two they'd do a new year's sketch, where the old year (played by Jack, with an old man voice) would give advice to the new year (played by a child). They weren't funny: they were a mixture of hope and sentiment, optimism, realism and resilience.
We are going to need all of these things in 2017.
For this year, the words are Leonard Cohen's, someone that 2016 took from us.
Seventeen Years ago, I wrote:
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
And almost a decade ago I said,
...I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you'll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.
Half a decade ago, I wrote:
And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.
And it's this.
I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.
So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever.
From 2012, terrified but trying to be brave, from backstage at a concert:
It's a New Year and with it comes a fresh opportunity to shape our world.
So this is my wish, a wish for me as much as it is a wish for you: in the world to come, let us be brave ��� let us walk into the dark without fear, and step into the unknown with smiles on our faces, even if we're faking them.
And whatever happens to us, whatever we make, whatever we learn, let us take joy in it. We can find joy in the world if it's joy we're looking for, we can take joy in the act of creation.
So that is my wish for you, and for me. Bravery and joy.
This is from two years ago:
Be kind to yourself in the year ahead.
Remember to forgive yourself, and to forgive others. It's too easy to be outraged these days, so much harder to change things, to reach out, to understand.
Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin.
Meet new people and talk to them. Make new things and show them to people who might enjoy them.
Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love.
.......
And, because Death took so much in 2016, I'll give her the final word. (It's from the 911 short story "The Wheel".)
Labels: Happy New Year
We landed in Brisbane 24 hours late, because a set of plane delays had made us miss the flight we were meant to be on, and I started fading away during the drive out here. (I wasn't driving. I was entertaining Ash, mostly.) By the time we got to the house I was gone. I need to sleep, I thought, and isn't it odd that in such a hot part of Australia in high summer it is so cold that I'm shivering...
And then I was mostly asleep for 3 days, with a fever caused by something that was probably a really nasty flu. Then it became a chest infection. During the short waking periods I would read volume 3 of Henry Mayhew's LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR.
Three days of fever dreams filled with Guy Fawkes Men and Penny Mousetrap makers was entertaining, but it wasn't getting better. So yesterday evening, I went in to the Woodford Festival to see the doctor there. By luck, I caught the song Amanda dedicated to me, then went home, took the medicine, slept, woke up, thought I really need to write a blog for the New Year, and went straight back to sleep...
Which is why I'm writing a New Year's wish on New Year's Day. Although it's New Year's Eve still in the US (and in the UK as I type this, but it will already be next year there by the time I post it).
It's been a strange, hard year for so many of us. I find myself thinking of the old Jack Benny radio shows. Particularly during World War Two they'd do a new year's sketch, where the old year (played by Jack, with an old man voice) would give advice to the new year (played by a child). They weren't funny: they were a mixture of hope and sentiment, optimism, realism and resilience.
We are going to need all of these things in 2017.
For this year, the words are Leonard Cohen's, someone that 2016 took from us.
Seventeen Years ago, I wrote:
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
And almost a decade ago I said,
...I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you'll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.
Half a decade ago, I wrote:
And for this year, my wish for each of us is small and very simple.
And it's this.
I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.
So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever.
From 2012, terrified but trying to be brave, from backstage at a concert:
It's a New Year and with it comes a fresh opportunity to shape our world.
So this is my wish, a wish for me as much as it is a wish for you: in the world to come, let us be brave ��� let us walk into the dark without fear, and step into the unknown with smiles on our faces, even if we're faking them.
And whatever happens to us, whatever we make, whatever we learn, let us take joy in it. We can find joy in the world if it's joy we're looking for, we can take joy in the act of creation.
So that is my wish for you, and for me. Bravery and joy.
This is from two years ago:
Be kind to yourself in the year ahead.
Remember to forgive yourself, and to forgive others. It's too easy to be outraged these days, so much harder to change things, to reach out, to understand.
Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin.
Meet new people and talk to them. Make new things and show them to people who might enjoy them.
Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love.
.......
And, because Death took so much in 2016, I'll give her the final word. (It's from the 911 short story "The Wheel".)
Labels: Happy New Year
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Mark
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Jan 01, 2017 01:17AM
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A warm and happy New Year from Copenhagen (even thou it's freezing here!)
Greetings from Tacoma, WA. Wonderful post! My favorite part is this: "Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin." YES. This, exactly. Many are troubled by all the deaths of 2016, but the best way to honor our dead is to live and love our lives. I speak from experience, sadly. My beautiful, dear mother was a huge fan of your books - bought every one of your novels hardcover - even though she was in her 60s when she read her first (American Gods). I felt a little silly at 30-something when she bought me The Graveyard Book and Coraline. I wondered if she realized that I am no longer in grade school, but I read and loved them anyway.
Well, it's been rough since she died last year, and while wallowing just a little, I reread The Graveyard Book. Reading those words I knew she loved made me feel closer to her and eased that tight cold feeling of grief. I remembered that it's not so scary, death. It's just death, after all. It's going to be o.k., but it's good to be here too. Thank you for that. That is an amazing gift: making the death of those we love feel even remotely o.k.
Anyway, thank you. I wish you improved health and a very happy New Year to you and your family.
Thank you for the lovely new years post. Your words are encouraging and heartfelt. I recently listened to your audio book Neverwhere as I was wrapping gifts and baking for the holiday. I especially enjoy listening to you tell your stories. Hope that you recover quickly from your illness and can get back to doing the things you love. Happy New Year to you and yours. Christie
I always enjoy your posts, but this is my favorite so far. I hope you get better soon. Happy New Year!
Thanks for the post. Hope you are feeling better and enjoying your newfound fatherhood. Last year was costly with loss. This year is a scary unknown which we walk into with bold curiosity (yea, fave movie) for the path ahead and hope that it wont be as bad as we might imagine. I will be frantically baking cake to keep up with demand so if you find yourself in Philly check us out at the Night Kitchen Bakery. You and your fans are always welcome.
Happy New Year, Neil!:) This year, I just realised the other day, I have been reading your books and work and great stuff for over half my life, up til this day. I started out with Good Omens when i was about 15. It's been a great ride ever since. Thank you for the times you took from your valuable time to sign for me:) My life is all the better for you having been there, through your work, all along on my way. And all the artists and musicians and truly great people I've found through your collaborations and your blog, it's incredible!:) If I have to pick just one musician it has to be Amanda Palmer, and single out just one illustrator it is by far Chris Riddell:) (Yes I'm one of his most avid fans also these days. He is such a great guy! As you well know:) ). So thank you, Neil. Thank you!:) I wish you a great year filled with lots if love, kindness, compassion, creativity and great times.
My best greetings,
Sverker in Sweden:)
Happy New Year Neil! I love all of your advice, and will take it to heart :)
Thank you for being you. Happy New Year to you and your family. Keep writing us more wonderful books.
I was wondering and wondering how I might tell you how much I am loving listening to "A View from the Cheap Seats," Mr. Gaiman. Here I am telling you! If you could just read the whole world a lovely strange story each evening! Maybe you could write about the writer who found a way to read to the whole world every evening....
I have been sick twice since October 27 and an elderly friend died of upper respiratory complications at Thanksgiving. I got it both times from children openly coughing, once on an airplane, once in church on Christmas eve. Why do people ignore sickness? I don't know. but I am trying to combat this ignorance in my town where people think it's noble to carry on with life while sick-- it is not and yet cashiers and food servers still come to work while sick and epidemic ensues. I am not going anywhere and reading A VIEW FROM THE CHEAP SEATS and loving it, Here's to getting well-- stay warm and hydrated!
