I’ll keep this brief.
2016 was shit.
2017 was worse.
Worse for a lot of people, in a lot of ways – and yes, there were some high points and victories in there, but not enough.
For me, it was a year of poor physical health, poor mental health and zero creative health, which I’m pretty sure is a thing. A year when I couldn’t see any point or purpose in writing.
Will 2018 be better? If it is, it’ll only be because we work at it – if we turn the anger and sadness and helplessness of this year into fuel for making change and building something better.
So that’s what I want to focus on from this point – putting the work in. On my health, on my mood, on my writing, on my professionalism, on my drive, on my projects. Less pie in the sky, less survival thinking; more getting shit done, more setting and (important) working towards goals.
But first I’m going to get drunk and celebrate 2017 dying in a fucking fire.