I was four when my first plan went wrong. My room was dark and I was supposed to be asleep. I was jumping on my bed. The mattress slid sideways, a corner of it almost touched the floor. My effort to push the mattress back up failed.
So I started from the beginning. I dragged the entire mattress to the floor, certain that this would make everything easier. I’d push the mattress up to let it drop back onto the box springs. My parents would never know I’d been jumping on the bed.
I forgot to consider my skinny four-year-old arms. My parents found me sitting in the dark, on the mattress, on the floor, a sweaty, frustrated mess.
“What are you doing?” asked one grown-up shadow in the doorway.
“Have you been jumping on the bed?” said the other.
I got screamed at. And it is the only memory I have of my parents together.
So, here is my plan 37 years later. I’ve printed all seven novels I have written. Two are finished. Sort of. One is probably finished. Maybe. The others are, well, messy. Most of them take place in the same town. Characters show up here and there. It is not a series, but they overlap.
For the Christmas season I’ve been calling myself Jacob Marley and this binder is my chain to lug around for all my writing sins. I’ve giving myself 11 months to work through them. hahahaha
By then I may need a binder for myself.
Your turn. What is your plan for the next year? What challenges are ahead? Do you have any challenges you keep to yourself in case people laugh at you?