taking stock
I know that I am more than my productivity, but one way I manage my anxiety is by staying on task. That means I always have a To Do list and I also keep a writing agenda so I know which projects need my attention. 2017 was a difficult year and I spent a lot of time inside my head, dreaming of other worlds—necessary if temporary escapism, though most of the time I was writing about things in the news. Near the top of my current To Do list is: “set new writing agenda for 2018.” In order to do that, I’m looking back at 2017’s agenda, which I followed pretty closely.
In January I wrote an essay, “The Perils of Proximity” for the Doris McCarthy Gallery. That same month I self-published The Ghosts in the Castle. In February I pulled some educator friends together to have “A Talk with Teachers: Revisiting James Baldwin’s Vision for Education.” I also started writing for a curriculum company that wound up buying NONE of my stories. But trying to satisfy them led me to produce Mother of the Sea, North/South (a dystopian novella), and a short story called “The Ghosts in her Bones.” In May I wrote a poem, “You, Too, Can Fly,” for an anthology edited by Cheryl and Wade Hudson of Just Us Books; they sold the project to Crown/Random House, and We Rise, We Resist, We Raise Our Voices will be published in September 2018. In June I wrote a new picture book story about a little girl understanding her aunt’s transition; fully expect to self-publish that one! By mid-July I finished The Return and stupidly asked my agent to send it out; no response, as expected, so that YA novel is top of the list to self-publish in 2018. Started work on The Dragon Thief but then Charlottesville happened and I wrote The Phantom Unicorn instead. I wrote Benny Doesn’t Like to Be Hugged a couple of years ago but self-published it in October. The NY Times asked me to write an op-ed but then didn’t want my essay, “Nice Is Not Enough,” so Edi published it as part of her When Women Speak series in November. I finally finished The Dragon Thief earlier this week, and then wrote an essay on Logan for Smugglivus over at The Book Smugglers; that will be published in early January.
Am I done for this year? I don’t know. I spent this morning chasing down yet another outstanding payment, so I’m VERY clear that producing more doesn’t necessarily affect my bottom line. Does it keep me sane? Or does writing continuously keep me from being fully present in my world? I don’t know. But I’ve been very emotional this week, probably because I get the blues whenever I finish a big project. One way to make sure my funk doesn’t last too long is to dive into another book. For now I’ll keep reading and watching Netflix, and on Xmas Eve I’ll watch Scrooge and hope the bells on Xmas morning remind me that we can always start over—even at the very end of the year.
