A little over a week in and all I know for sure is that it’s too soon to tell what 2014 will bring.
The biggest event of the year so far has been our move from the ninth arrondissement to the second. Which sounds like a big jump, but in reality our old and new apartments are just 800 metres apart.
Thanks to some generous help from our friends (the apartment is on the 4th floor with no lift), our new home feels like exactly that. It’s modern and bright and has an open kitchen that promises many an evening spent cooking for friends (starting with tonight’s better-late-than-never galette des rois feast).
It’s small, of course, and requires me to fold my bed away every morning, but I love it. All that’s missing is a desk, which has provided me with a handy excuse for the lazy writing week I’ve had.
After drafting a laundry list of resolutions in the dying moments of 2013, I settled on just one, affirmation-esque sentence to sum up my focus for the year ahead.
2014: The year of the book contract.
Status-wise, my first novel is sitting with publisher #3 and my second novel’s first draft is starting to take a slightly blobby, hazy almost distinguishable form.
It’s at once an exciting and a frustrating time.
There are a thousand and one brilliant writing blogs out there that offer advice on any number of subjects. But there is noone who can tell you definitively whether or not one day this will all be worth it. If in fact, you will ever be published.
On a good day, I read back over my novel and feel proud, and quietly confident that publication is just a matter of time. Other days, the words make me feel sick to my stomach embarrassed that I’d ever dare to send such rubbish out into the world.
And so, the first step in my plan is this: Believe this will all come to something.