It’s that time of year again.
It’s time to fail.
Each year I jump on the New Year’s Resolution bandwagon and resolve to lose weight, organize my books and get out more.
In 2013 I did well.
Instead of resolving to lose weight I decided not to gain any more weight, and it worked.
In 2013 my only other resolution was to publish a book.
I published three: “Locked Hearts,” “The Lunch Box” and “Broken.” They’re decent stories and worthy of a read.
I published three books not because of any resolutions made on New Year’s Day, but because I was tired of saying, “I’m writing a book and no, I’m not that Dan Brown, and no, I don’t have anything published yet.”
A year later while I still have to admit I’m not that Dan Brown – and you would not believe the volume of Facebook friend requests I get from people who think I am – I have, like the other guy, published a few books.
Now I just need to score a book deal.
Which is my lone resolution for 2014: Get some kind of book deal done.
I’ve been writing novels for almost 30 years now and there are dead computers littering landfills full of manuscripts I’ve finished and never did anything with.
I decided last year it was time to put up or shut up and in May I published “Locked Hearts.” A month later I released “The Lunch Box,” and in November I capped off the year with “Broken.”
So, this year I want the book deal.
I don’t care how substantial. I just want somebody to read my stories and say, “Dan? We’ll give you X amount of dollars (preferably X times about a hundred thousand, give or take) to publish your book and whatever next three or four you write for the whole world to see and read.”
I am aware nobody is going to walk up and give me anything. I learned that lesson in 2004 when I wished for the woman of my dreams to show up on my front doorstep.
You have to work for it and don’t sweat the restraining orders. They’re only temporary.
This time next year I hope I can tell you about the book deal I signed, writing this column as I’m lounging on some cruise ship in the Caribbean.
I figure at 56, I don’t have all that many New Year’s resolution opportunities left.
I never did well with New Year’s resolutions before.
For years my New Year’s resolutions happened around 4 a.m., hugging the toilet and promising God if He let me survive the night I’d never, ever do that again.
Other New Year’s resolutions asked for a good night’s sleep, first for my children who didn’t have a problem rising and shining at 5 a.m. Eventually it became begging to God, “Please God let them sleep until at least 8 a.m.” – which in turn meant a good night’s sleep for me.
These days I nap whenever I can.
I believe naps are wasted on the young.
And these days, like when my kids were little, I’m in bed by 8 p.m. and awake by 5 a.m.
They say when you’re young you want to be old and when you’re old you want to be young.
Things are all messed up.