Happy New Year.

I’ve been reading posts all day about what people have learned in 2009, what people vow to do in 2010, how many old things are laid to rest and how many new beginnings wait in the new year. I have trouble joining in the uplifting of hope, the declaration of intent, the swelling of new vitality and new promise. Not because I’m feeling particularly Scroogish, no, but because to me 2010 means the same thing as 2009:

Keep trying, keep working, keep fighting, and never quit.

The rollover between one day and the next doesn’t change that. The shift in the last two digits of the year doesn’t make the anticipated victories of the new year any greater than those of the old year. It doesn’t make the failures hurt any less, and it won’t eradicate the many bumps in the road ahead. It won’t make it any easier to pick up and keep going after getting knocked down, and it won’t change the driving need to keep doing it over and over again until I find even footing and claw my way just a little further up. The attitude most assign to the new year, I keep all year round. I may suck at optimism, but I’ve got a goddamned monopoly on bullheaded stubbornness and determination.

Tomorrow is a new beginning, another chance, another day to try to make something happen – another day to do my damnedest, push another few steps along the road, and enjoy the sweat in my eyes as much as the quiet, sweet seconds when everything’s calm and for just a breath, I can live in the moment. Yesterday was the same sort of day, whether 2009 or 2010. The day after tomorrow will be the same – and the next day, and the next. The difference between one year and the next is all in your head, and if you really want to you can make a fresh start any day and every day.

Never forget that.

But don’t let that stop you from getting rip-roaring drunk, either, because I damn well know I’m about to. Happy New Year!

I am so late for work right now.

…and I’m posting anyway. This morning on Twitter, @inkyelbows posted a link to the 1000 words / 500 words challenge; you pick one, and then try for the next year to write either 1000 words a day or 500 words a day for six days out of the week. If you make it more often than not, you keep posting the badge on your site. If you don’t, well, hang your head in shame and take the badge off.

I’m giving the 1000 words challenge a shot, if only because I think it’ll be a nice kick in the ass – until I forget about it / get sidetracked by life / get writer’s block, which I inevitably will. But maybe it’ll motivate me to pick up the pen again sooner. So I start today, after I finish work and some web design stuff I need to focus on. Maybe I’ll stick a widget in the sidebar to post daily status, or something.

Wish me luck.

Crossroads.

As I always do after finishing a major project, I find myself standing at a crossroads with a dozen options stretching in all directions, unsure which way I want to go. I’ve had my downtime, remembered that I do have other fun interests beyond writing (“Make it so!”), and now that I’m refreshed and relaxed I’d like to get back to work.

But on what?

Rewrite’s done; so is the synopsis and the tweaked version of the query letter, and on January 4th (when the publishing industry wakes up again) I’ll likely start querying again. I could start revamping the sequel to go with the new storyline, but why? There’s no point until I’m sure the first will sell. So I have a few choices:

1. Waking Magic, also known as the crackfic. Fun, but probably a little too crazy to ever see the light of day. Plus I hit a wall, though I need to work past it sooner or later.
2. Icarus Burning, the sci-fi YA story about Gabriel.
3. The YA paranormal romance that’s puttering around the back of my mind, avoiding the light of day out of shame for what it is.
4. The YA otherworldly fantasy (not quite high fantasy, but kind of a tech-fantasy thing, non-Earth) that’s been playing at the edges of my imagination for a few days.
5. Darkling, a little middle-grade pile of cuteness that I’ve posted about on LJ but never talked about here.
6. Kowloon / Hak Nam.

Yes, there are a ton of other options, half-finished stories I’ve let stagnate over the years, concepts that ran themselves into the ground or that just never played out properly, things that were interesting at the time but are a little too dated now (like The Practical Guide to Being a Vampire – it’s funny, but I’m so tired of vampires and so is everyone else, to the point where even a mocking story playing on current tropes is still too much). But these are the ones at the front of my mind, whirling around like a merry-go-round and waiting for me to catch the ring.

I’ll figure it out. I’m probably going to reread what I have written for all of them, find the one that captures my imagination most and has the most potential, and then run with it from there.

Sometimes, though, I wish I had extra hands and extra brains so I could write four or five stories at once.

To end this on a less wistful, blah-blah-blah oh-god-not-more-pointless-talk-about-writing note, a conversation with someone in WoW the other day:

“You know, Adri, you really do have a poet’s soul.”
“Dear lord, I should hope not.”
“What? Why not?”
“What in bloody blue hell would I do with something as useless as that?”

Also, my neighbors will no longer be treated to me screeching “Jesus Christ donkeyballs!” when the broken hot water heater runs out mid-shower; landlord’s sending in the repairmen today. I’m sure parents are tired of explaining to their children what a donkey’s cojones have to do with their messiah.

One other thing.

Best Saturday night ever: DVDs of Star Trek: The Next Generation, homemade snowcones made with Bailey’s Irish Creme, and couch-snuggles with the boyfriend. No computers, no phones, nothing but quiet snow falling outside and both of us yelling “THAT’S NOT HOW INERTIA WORKS IN SPACE!” or “DAMMIT GEORDI, THAT’S SO FRICKIN’–NO! NO! YOU DON’T–GAH!” at the screen. Or cackling madly at Jean-Luc Picard’s awesomeness, and Counselor Troi’s godawful outfits. Seriously. Turquoise high-heeled slouch boots. No. Hell no.

Also, Worf. “Good tea. Nice house.”

And Santa should have brought me a uterus so I could have Brent Spiner’s creepy little love child.

After the insane stress of Christmas eve and, to some extent, Christmas day…I really needed this weekend to just lie back, relax, and not think about work, writing, or in-laws. Even when I have time off, I never really take time off. I never really shut down, instead always feeling like I should make productive use of the time (and even when I don’t, the expectation is hanging over my head to create the same pressure and stress as if I was working on something). Getting to cut loose and really relax this weekend shouldn’t be such a unique experience for me.

I need to do this more often.

Welcome, and…whuuuut?

(This is just copied from the ZU post about it, but eh, it covers the idea for people who got here through channels other than ZU.)

If you’re wondering why the move…~shrugs~ It was time. Zenunlimited.com started off as a meaningless name for a school project many years ago, and I’ve just made use of the domain since I happened to own it. I’m not exactly the type to assign deep personal meaning to everything, but I thought it was about time I moved my blog to a domain that was nonetheless more representative of…well…me. My writing, since this is my writing blog. The concept of nights in both the modern Kowloon area and the old Kowloon Walled City (and the many things that can happen there) encompasses many of the themes that factor strongly throughout my writing, and acts as something of a home for my imagination.

I’m not going to wank on about that in detail; I’m kind of gagging myself right now. Just trust that I have my reasons. KbN is just ZU with a new skin and a new domain name, so it’s not like I’m embarking on some extreme overhaul of my personal image on the web.

Oh, by the way, my e-mail address will stay the same.