I think that, somehow, over the course of 2017 I re-wrote my headcanon of what I want ‘the future’ to look like without fully noticing I was doing so. You can see it if you look at my posts; you see me change from wanting some kind of middle-class utopia of radio 4 and kids and a house to wanting independence and adventure more than I want those things. I don’t have the same need I had to subsume my identity in that of a couple. I want to be me and if someone is along for the ride I want that person to be them.
This was also the year I realised I want to pursue writing more earnestly. The year I realised I love to write and always have and the year I stopped being scared of the potential I was identified as having when I was eleven years old. For background; at eleven I was identified as being a gifted young writer and sent on a writing camp. My main memory of the time is writing something about my great aunt and having a crush on a boy called Jack because he heroicly vomited in the scrambled eggs of the boy who was mean to me.
I wonder if any of the other writers at the retreat have written anything since, or if they too, got scared of trying in case the diagnosis of potential was incorrect. This year I aim to try to stop being scared of trying. I have already sent some submissions in for publication. I can take rejection, it is better than knowing I was too scared to even risk that outcome.
I don’t have many resolutions (learn to drive, clear debt, move flat) but I do know I have a new way of looking at life – or at least a revised version. I think I will continue to edit until my life is one I want rather than the one I think I am supposed to want. That sounds like as good a plan as any.