Your Monthly Momecdote, Issue 21: January, 2026

This blog post was originally published in my January newsletter. Subscribe to receive next month's essay along with book and music recommendations.

People often ask me whether I have resolutions for the new year, and typically I do, thanks to Mr. Blake, who is traditionally a devotee of the ol' New Year's Resolution(TM). I think it's more of a game for him, or possibly some kind of competition he’s having with himself. That's the personality we're working with over there. He likes to pick one thing and win at achieving it, but for me, the win alone is not enough.

To my mind, resolutions are more like Good Intentions that I strive for but don't necessarily reach. For example, much of what I will discuss below is carrying over in some way from last year, because I didn't totally ace it in 2025. Which is fine! I carry into resolutions the same attitude I used to have about Lent, which was that it wasn't about the doing (or not doing) of something for a set period of time only to revert to whatever I was doing before. The more satisfying idea, at least for me, is to overshoot your actual capabilities a little, so that long term, you end up somewhere in the region of net gain.

Work. I am a working creative, so my work goals are the same as my creative ones—bear that in mind as you peruse. Last year, I made it my goal to write at least a little bit every day, because I have discovered over the course of my career in publishing that if you put as much time between periods of drafting for marketing/promotion as your publisher typically expects of you, it takes much, much longer to get back into the act of drafting. Also, as you may recall, I am bipolar and I rely on my art for more than just whatever it becomes as an end product. I need the process of creativity to keep myself sane.

So, 2025 was the year I became a 10 minute timer evangelist. Every work day, I set a 10 minute timer and I write something, manuscript or not. If that's the only window I have for drafting that day, then after 10 minutes, I consider that job done—a win! What a concept! And if I have more time, I often settle into the flow state after 10 minutes and thus I choose to write more. And would you believe it, manuscripts are finite, so even with intervals of 10 minutes a day, one does eventually reach the end. Last year, in addition to editing existing projects, I wrote 2 new novels, a play, and multiple short stories. This year, my scheduled projects are slightly longer, so I will be happy with having less than that if that’s how the cookie crumbles. Currently, I am editing the play I wrote last summer, and I will soon begin drafting my SFF action/adventure book UNTITLED ASSASSIN WIFE (great title, Olivie). I would also like to write a film script this year. Mainly just to keep in my back pocket, but also because I have something in mind. This will be the easiest resolution for me to keep because I have the best job ever and love to work. I foresee zero struggles here. Moving on.

Self (?). Question mark because "self care" and "self improvement" feel heavily commercialized, but there are a few things I would like to learn and know and do for the sake of being a better version of myself. Ew, I'm giving myself the ick. Anyway, my main one is basically that I'm tired of being someone who used to play the flute very well for 11 years or whatever. I stopped playing when I was in college because the university orchestra director harassed me into hating something I used to love. But now, when I hear the sound of a flute playing anywhere, it hits me almost as if I am hearing a recording of my own voice, and I am tired of the desolate feeling that strikes me somewhere tender in my chest. I'm tired of having lost something, and I intend to get it back. Also, if my goal is for my son to be a Renaissance Man, why should I not be a Renaissance Woman? By which I mostly mean I'd like to be well-rounded, but ALSO that I would like to learn to embroider proficiently. He likes whimsical things on his clothing, and I'd like to be able to do that for him.

Other things I talked about last year that generally fall in this category were body related, specifically in that I have a sweet tooth I sometimes struggle to control—and, I believe, I was beginning the process of what I now think of as exiting hard mode. At the time, it was the sudden realization that I had to take care of my body again after the demands of the infant/toddler years; actually, it was more like remembering I even had a body, followed by the act of taking care of it. I do think I did a pretty good job with that part—I struggle with dysmorphia, so there are definitely times when I feel the aesthetic needs more work, which is mostly nonsense, and my conviction to it greatly varies—but overall I think I did a better job of actually pursuing the physical therapy I needed. Now, as I more consciously transition out of parenting hard mode, I am realizing I actually do have time to myself. Like, it’s not huge, but it’s there if I want it. So now it’s a question of what I want to use it for. In 2025, I did things like finally get a date night babysitter so I could spend time alone with my husband; we stopped spending every night zoning out on the couch in front of the TV and made space for the fun and conversation that used to come naturally, pre-baby. So, this year, more of that, plus also settling into a more long-term rhythm where I shower routinely because I can. While still keeping an eye on the sweets.

Coping with the Horrors. I am still trying to figure out my relationship with social media. Two things are true: 1) the algorithms are biased, malignant, and profitable to an unaccountable, corrupt oligarchy of billionaire losers and 2) I wouldn’t be here without the very authentic work and passion of bookish social media communities. Many people ask me why, if I have such a complicated relationship to my own social feed, do I not simply hand my accounts over to a manager or minion and be done with it? And my answer—my answer, based on my relationship to social media—is that if I were to do so, then I downgrade myself from person to ad, and who would care what I have to say if I weren’t accountable in some way to the other members of the community? What relevance would I have if I were not also meaningfully engaged? These are complicated questions. I don’t know the solution yet; for now I think it’s being there when I want to be and then absenting myself when I know my mental state can’t take it. I don’t know. I don’t know! We’ll see, maybe the whole internet experiment fails in 2026 and I’ll have other things to worry about. Who can say.

The bigger issue I have is that the more time I spend online/on my phone, the more I fucking buy things. Last year my goal was to decrease online shopping by only buying things IRL. I’m sure you can guess that I totally failed at this, and not even for reasons I anticipated. A lot of things—far more than I expected—are not in stock even at places that have brick and mortar stores near me. But more importantly, I realized the problem is not the act of buying (which, when purposeful, does not necessarily have to be wasteful) but the ease of spending money online, and the constant exposure to things I wouldn’t otherwise think to buy. Ads are everywhere. Sponsored content is important to people who make a living on an internet that is otherwise (sigh, for now) free. Almost everything on my phone or computer is trying to sell me something, and the problem is that I do sometimes feel I need a little treat to cope with The Conditions. So, what to do? I know that an easy one would be to disconnect my credit card from my phone. The time necessary to type in my details is probably plenty of time to diffuse any spontaneous purchase. I can also unsubscribe from marketing emails, use browsers that prevent targeting… all of which feels and sounds like an annoying amount of labor, but then, who will win between me and capitalism if my means to purchase remain unchecked? I’d like not to lose, but that might require me arming myself with something more effective than a general don’t-do-it vibe.

In conclusion… Well, I’m realizing these are kind of intellectual goals with no solid deliverables, which might bite me a little bit, because lofty goals are hard to reach. But, I guess we can spend the year figuring out how that works! Such is the nature of the fresh start: all this room for the freedom of inevitable, personal error.