This blog post was originally published in my January monthly newsletter. Subscribe to receive next month's essay along with book and music recommendations.
It's January, which is my birthday month, and also a very hot time for things like self-reflection and being the least lazy version of yourself, filled with all sorts of ideas about who you're going to be this year. We all know this will go unfulfilled to some degree. The real question is how badly will we fail, and who can we still become, even in that margin for error? Personally, I think the point is to shoot for the moon and land among the stars, as the poet Callum Nova would say. The point is to aim your trajectory so steep that no matter what, you reach something positive in the distance. So, for your reading pleasure, I present my resolutions for the new year, which are really more about me than my role as The Mother, though those things are kind of inextricable, which is the whole point of this section of the newsletter. Anyway, here we go.
Resolution #1: Make art every day
This might surprise you, what with the strange nature of time, but I have only existed in traditional publishing for two years, which also happened to be the early years of my son's life. So while I'm generally quite prolific (from a place of mental illness), I have actually written less over the last two years than any of the years prior to that, partly because my son is so young and partly because traditional publishing requires administrative energy for marketing and promotion. Which I do, of course, because I care about my work and want to feed my family, but it can be frustrating when I also need to write. Creative output is how I manage my mood disorder, but drafting a manuscript has, up to this point, been something I've only been able to devote myself to in intensive, rapid bursts of time. Up until now, I have drafted each manuscript in 4-6 weeks, where typically I ask my publishing teams to leave me alone for that time so I can focus. Now, though, I'm realizing that's quite an unsustainable way to work, because inevitably the backlog of task means I follow up a drafting period with an intensive administrative period, and that sucks. It means I can go from writing 5k or more every day to writing almost nothing for months at a time, which is an inefficient way to keep the artistry machine in working order. So we're trying something different here, where I write bite sized portions, like 1-2k words, but I do it every day in tandem with other manuscripts under revision and/or other publishing tasks.
So far, so good, though I predict there will be a time when the narrative fever takes over and I devote myself more fully to the manuscript at hand, which is fine, or alternatively, the manuscript will end and I'll be unsure what to write next, in which case I'll turn my attention to short form or another medium.
Resolution #2: Decrease my sugar consumption
I had several blood tests done at my last physical exam and was reminded how high my glucose levels are, and have pretty much always been, because I have really terrible self-control when it comes to sweet things. I have an extremely overactive sweet tooth, and I'm worried that as I age this will lead to more serious health problems. Some of this realization comes with something that is very much motherhood related, which is: OH YEAH, I'm a person, specifically a person who exists in a body, and at the age my son has reached—which is to say, less dependent on me for his survival—it has now become necessary once again to treat this body as if I intend for it to last a long time.
I have always wrestled a bit with dysmorphia and the lingering sense that I should, at all times, be on a diet, eternally standing to lose five pounds like I'm Regina George. From the time my son was born, I've basically done just enough exercise to keep my head above water and be attentive to my aesthetic. But I did at least absorb one critical lesson from pregnancy—I promised myself that I would never again hate my body because of not only what it had survived, but what it had given me, and to a meaningful extent I have kept my word on that. But I think not hating it isn't quite enough. I need to love it as something beyond a vessel for optics. I need to treat my body well, because eventually it will be harder for it to perform to my expectations, and since I don't foresee myself ever asking less of it, it's probably worth trying to offer it more while I can.
Resolution #3: Buy things in person, not online
If this one feels familiar to you, it's because it was my resolution last year too, and yeah, I didn't quite reach the moon. Part of this resolution is circumstantial—I am fortunate enough to live in a city (Los Angeles) where almost every place I shop has a physical location in close proximity to me, and therefore I have no excuse not to go there and try things on. I think in the interest of wasting less, I'd also like to consume less, but I am definitely too delighted by fashion to forgo it altogether. I've stuck to some principles, like not buying fast fashion and paying closer attention to the climate offsetting measures of the brands I prefer, but ethical production is only half the issue, with waste being the other, more opaque part of the sustainability game. There are definitely times I buy things because they look cute online and then when the fit is off or the material isn't quite right, they either end up sitting in my closet or they're returned and presumably discarded. I would dearly, dearly love to act in the best interest of this planet, though committing to buying nothing is probably impossible for me to achieve because I am weak and love pretty things. Also, soft things. During the opportunities where I did go to the store and try things on, I found that I bought significantly less, and in fact often bought nothing at all, which means it probably remains the best way for me personally to adjust my approach to consumption. This year, I intend to stick to it.
I say this a lot, but: we don't actually know what will happen this year. We have no idea what the future will hold, and while the unknown can be terrifying, it can also be uplifting. Maybe some new vigilante will scare enough billionaires into giving us gun control. Maybe our next president will be turned into a pillar of salt. I mean, who knows! It's exciting, isn't it? At the other end of this year is a version of me who isn't dangerously close to diabetic, and who has a lot of new stories and ideas, and maybe is wearing the same outfit but still looks, you know, pretty good. Just think how much the new regime could fear her. I mean, we can't entirely rule it out. As Halsey so empoweringly put it, someone like me could be a real nightmare.