What a good year this has been for our family. I'm saying this while keeping my fingers tightly crossed and banging my forehead violently against wood because I'm more than ever waiting for the other shoe to drop. With incredibly sad and difficult things happening everywhere, I find it shameful to celebrate... But truly the year was sweet, cozy, peaceful, abundant, serene for the most part, with the brunt of the drama being self-inflicted and most likely imaginary.
It wasn't all perfect. 2010 was also the year when I became middle-aged in looks, poundage and years. I'll try to remedy that in 2011. I just read someone's new years resolution on facebook and she made me laugh, she said this year, 'if anything tastes good, spit it out immediately'. Well i'm not going to do that. And I'm probably not going to botox myself stiff either. What I will do, however, is coat all the mirrors in the house with a thin layer of olive oil. Problem solved.
I start the year with the college application madness behind us, and two school having already said yes to him (two out of two so far, the rest will be revealed in April), a younger son finally happy with his school and making new friends after a couple of lousy experiences, no less than three TV shows on the air produced by my husband which is totally cool, and new resolve to self-publish. 2011 will see the joys and heartaches of seeing my son off to college and becoming just three at home. I'm very scared of that and therapy to deal with it is on the horizon. Maybe this is why the year was so good. It needed to be, because it was the last one of the kind.
So my resolution is to self publish. Who am I kidding, I will never be published the regular way. I have not sent a single query to an agent since August. But the truth is, I'm not even sure I want and agent, or a publisher. I've been reading a lot on the subject and everything points to self publishing: faster, easier, more control, more freedom, more outlets, more percentage. The last vestige of delusion to abandon is the thought of my book as a physical representation of my ego, and let it become what it needs to be: a marketable product.
My horoscope in today's L.A. Times assures me that "The substance of the stars shines through my every cell, and the light reaches to the far corner of the universe." no effing way! I mean with this kind of prognosis in my favor (and by the way it is also relevant to all of you girlfriends born in May) how could I not succeed?
I wish you all a sweet new year.
PS: I'm thinking of calling my book Hidden in Paris. What do you think of that title? Have you ever chosen a book based on the title alone? I don't think I ever did.
