I refuse to do New Years' resolutions. Those always imply crap like "New You in 52," which, of course, means diet culture. I raised the middle finger to diet culture closing in on ten years ago, and I'm damn well not sorry. I suppose it will be a battle every day of my life till the day I die to be treated as a human being without buying into the same shit that never worked for me in 33 years of yo-yo dieting and trying to hate myself thin, but it's a battle that I will fight.
Here are my big fat goals for 2020.
To format and release my first non-erotic published work in 13 years. Ketil and Yitzy's Adventure in the Xura Dream House is finished. I am currently in the process of editing and formatting it. It will be published in January of 2020.
To start publishing my poetry. I am currently formatting a book called The Poetic Rejects of 2019, which will, as the name implies, contain all my rejected poems from the past year. It may also contain some rejected prose, depending on the length of the piece.
To continue to submit works here and there, now and then, all the while giving no fucks whether or not they are accepted or published.
To continue working on and publishing my own stories, regardless of whether or not anyone else likes or reads them.
Basically, to survive another year.
Oh, I do have one resolution.
I resolve that I will never again do anything like the Battle of the Poems.
That was really stupid of me, and I'm dreadfully sorry.
Best wishes to you, whatever your goals are in 2020.
You are welcome to have resolutions, but if they are diet-y resolutions, I don't want to hear about them any more than I want to hear about your bowel movements.
I guess I have one more resolution.
I resolve to keep bringing the snark in 2020. It is my goal to make the ghost of Ambrose Bierce proud.
~The Cheese Hath Grated It~
I still miss these fuckers. Just sayin'.