I wondered about the best way to start the New Year. I rarely drink--and if I didn't start drinking in 2020, I never will. I have no desire to see Miley Cyrus' Epiglottis on New Years Rockin' Eve (or whoever the most recent too young to be showing so much skin singer is).
What I do want in 2021 is to get published again.
So I plan to start the New Year with new rounds of submissions to publishers, magazines, and literary agents. I have short stories already out, but novel manuscripts that need to go out, including Fire on Mist Creek, Beowulf: In Harm's Way, and Summer Jobs Are Murder. Another three manuscripts are mostly done, but need some work yet: Smoke Showing, The Source Emerald, and We Love Trouble.
By the end of January I mean to have all my completed but unpublished manuscripts out and about, and seeing more of the world than I. Meanwhile, since both COVID and winter are likely to stick around for some time, I'll stay home and work on getting the rest nicely polished and pretty-looking.
I know what you're thinking: "You lazy sod, why won't you have all that done three minutes into the New Year"? Well, my paranoia has me pouring over query letters and synopsis' for hours before I upload manuscripts and hit the send button. Besides, a little celebration is in order--and I have a morbid fascination with seeing how incapable the folks in Times Square are of finding and using a trash can.
Okay, the truth is I have to work New Year's Eve. The other truth? After 2020, we shouldn't make plans: You never know what's going to fall on us in the New Year.
Remember, every time you don't read a book and leave a review, a wicked witch terrorizes Munchkins. Save the short people.
