At the end of the second year of COVID, I gave myself the challenge of writing twelve things in the next twelve months.
Just because, and just for me.
(Although my mother is more or less required to read them all.)
But also because I needed to know 2023 would hold something that was challenging in only a personal way, not in a Sky Is Falling way.
I told this idea to a few people, and I mention it casually from time to time when people ask me what I'm up to, but I really solidified my commitment by saying it out loud to my friend Scott, who is basically a tall drink of empathy.
Lingering outside the parking garage after coffee, which is what you do in LA instead of lingering by the stairs to a subway station, he told me about his new pursuit, and I told him about mine. Basking in the glow of his enthusiastic listening, I said "All twelve pieces could be under an umbrella title of... Maybe it Won't Be Terrible." We laughed.
(His venture involves him becoming even more adept at helping people. That path will be the opposite of terrible. His patients will be lucky.)
Well, Dear Reader, I've done it. I've written twelve things in a year. Some of them are better than others, but hey, that's how you learn, right? I'm quite pleased!
Maybe I'll continue these, or maybe I'll do a deeper dive into fiction, like, taking an actual writing class. Maybe both.
Thank you, ANYONE, who has read one of these. Scott Ferrara, Beth Lopes, Steve Wilson, and Mom, extra thanks.

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