Here we are friends, within winking distance of a new year. Maybe this was “your year.” The Universe washed you in warm waves of lavender infused dreams come true. Or maybe the year felt like a family of quarreling beavers with chronic eczema and a love of lutefisk with limburger took up residence under your bed. Perhaps–and I do hope–it was at least a patch of somewhere in between.

Whatever this year felt like to you, I want you to know I’m proud of you, my little sugar snap peas. You made it through and you’re here, reading a blog written by a goofy lady who just called you a legume as a term of endearment. You’re not on fire and you probably get to sleep indoors tonight. So, see? Things can’t be “that bad,” right?

Intermission: Year End Decompression Break

If you want, go ahead and pretend you’re still reading, but in actuality, you can imagine you’re snuggling a giggling Baby New Year on a porch swing. It’s 72 degrees (my personal favorite) and blissful, sun-soaked, honey scented peace surrounds the two of you. Ahhh.

Now, that you’re all squishy and at ease, I want you to do one last thing for me, if you don’t mind. Please read the list of wishes I’ve collected just for you. I can’t guarantee they’ll all come true–some of them are up to you–I hope they help you to finish this year with your chin up and heart happy.

My wishes for you . . .

May you have a brave heart to exile manuscript excess, to say yes to [insert scary thing here] and even be excited about trying a new genre.

May you master the fine art of saying no in order to give yourself time to write—and not feel guilty about it.

May you inherit a tastefully decorated self-cleaning house with a self-cooking stove. (Give science enough time!)

May you have presence of mind like a butterfly net to consistently capture those seemingly silly, random thoughts and slippery ideas as soon as they light on your imagination.

May you be a sponge to absorb untried techniques, compliments and constructive feedback.

May you be a boomerang, able to return repeatedly for yet another try.

May you acknowledge even eensy progress and be undaunted by momentary gaps in your momentum.

May you remember e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e has dark times, disappointments, dry spells, downturns, doldrums and damp socks, even authors who seem to enjoy perpetual success. When you compare your insecure insides with someone’s shiny outsides, you’ll always come up short. So, don’t compare. Give grace (including to yourself, my little snickerdoodle.)

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language 
And next year’s words await another voice. ~ T.S. Eliot