It’s the smell of a fresh start and with it, the intentions of millions, all vying to make this year just a bit different for themselves. I am no exception, of course, as all things require constant re-evaluation and reconsideration.

However, to start things anew, I wanted to focus on evergreen ideas that work, are simple and just require action. What better way to begin that process than with Heinlein’s rules for writing.

Robert Heinlein was a prolific science fiction writer who had a great influence on the field. Back in his days as a pulp writer (a group whose work ethic and discipline I envy), he wrote an essay on the writing of speculative fiction. At the very end, he offered these five rules to follow if you wanted a successful career:

1. You must write.
2. You must finish what you start.
3. You must refrain from rewriting except to editorial order.
4. You must put it on the market.
5. You must keep it on the market until sold.

Five very simple rules, but so incredibly hard to follow. Yet, any writer who can faithfully follow them will find success. This is more in reference to those who are in it for decades rather than the one-hit wonder looking for accolades to stroke their ego.

I admit to being horrible with rules 2 and 4. Those have always been the bane of my writing existence, however, there’s never been a better time to follow these rules to heart. The plethora of tools and platforms out there are a dizzying array of marvel for the writer who just wants to sit, write and let technology automate the rest.

Am I concerned about discoverability?
Credibility?
Marketing?

Nah.

Those are nothing more than subjective classifications inside the mind of a person. After all, I’m sure we can all point to a wildly successful author who, in our minds, “is a horrible writer” who “writes crap.” From Austen, to Hemmingway, to today’s Nobel Prize winners in literature—someone always has something to critique.

Besides, I find writing fun.

I just need a kick in the pants to finish and put it out there.

Here’s to a different year. Happy 2021!

Well, we made it.

Another year gone and for once, a year we’re all happy to see go. There’s no point in recapping the year because once you start listing everything that happened, it gets wholly depressing.

However, if you dig for the blessings, you will definitely find many. It’s just been harder this year to see them in light of everything else.

Normally this day is a celebration of welcoming in the new year.

Perhaps today, you’ll join me instead in celebrating the ending of this one.

“What are your resolutions?”

Simplicity.

2020 proved that anything that can happen, will.

It showed us nothing is certain.

It showed us what we think we can rely upon may not be available.

It reminded us that we are humans and we’ve adapted to numerous shifts in our world and we will need to adapt to more.

It let us know there’s a lot of noise in the world and sometimes it’s best to just shut the door and ignore it, or filter it out.

Then it reminded us of the simple things like baking bread, playing board games, going for walks, firing up that imagination and getting in tune with who you are and what you really need.

My needs are so few:

good conversation, good books, simple writing tools and time with family.

Oh–and staying healthy.

Keeping it simple comes with incredible difficulty, but the pilgrimage towards it ends with a great reward. Best to start now.

Despite the number of people this year who increased (or discovered) their reading habits during quarantine, mine suffered.

My general focus was lost and it took quite some time to regain it. The usual pace of 90-110 books a year dropped to 70, which is still significant considering many consider 50 a prolific number.

However, a goal for next year is to simplify my processes and one of those is getting rid of vanity metrics. The number of books I read over the past few years has been less about enjoyment and more about volume, especially as an English teacher (leading by example).

While I still plan to complete Operation: ROL, I want to make sure it’s done while following my own advice to students:

Only read what interests you and challenges you.

Hence, my reading list for next year:

The fantasy series has been in my buffer for a while, the fiction titles were highly recommended, The Power Broker is one I promised to come back to and The Future of Text is a general interest.

There are only 13 books in that tower, but the goal is to keep me off the metric of number of books and re-introduce myself to focused, sustained reading for pleasure.

Also, I’ve also made the decision to stop doing book reviews.

While I do my best to keep each one positive, I fear they don’t actually serve a good purpose. A review, after all, is simply a personal opinion.

Nothing more.

If I didn’t like a book, it’s because I didn’t like it. Others may and I would be horrified if I ever deterred someone from reading something that would open a doorway into literature for them.

On the other end, liking a book is also a matter of personal tastes. I would be equally horrified if a positive review catapulted someone into reading something they hated.

But, and this is the biggest one, I’ve had many requests from authors and smaller publishers to do reviews. All for exposure, of course!

I learned my lesson about exposure dollars from being a magician and no one is going to take my time and energy to read a book I had no interest in, by somebody I don’t know, to write a review I may later regret.

That time could be better spent on other areas of life, especially those needing my attention at the moment.

The steps toward simplicity starts now.

There’s a lot I don’t understand about the world and I’m happy to admit my ignorance, with a willingness to understand… or at least not cast serious judgement.

As a writer, I understand language is mutable and the usage of its lexicon changes, adapts and evolves. Sometimes I can keep up and other times, I just sit back and hope what I’m missing is simply a trend that will go away.

I’ve already survived, “Gag me with a spoon,” and “All that and a bag of chips,” to name a few.

However, and pardon my quick step onto the old-person-ranting soapbox, there’s one word currently in use that strikes me as a failure of our culture:

“Adulting.”

Adulting: a verb to let the world know you are no longer a child because you did such strenuous adult things such as paying a bill or cleaning a stove all by yourself.

I’ve posted here before on the head-shaking reality that our expectations of society has become so low that mere competence is now seen as above-average. Even exceptional in some circumstances.

But I have to ask, and I hope there’s a historian out there who can share with me, at what point did we just give up on trying to raise children to be adults?

It scares me as a parent that I’m participating in this learned helplessness, understanding it was happening in my generation as well. However, if it took me until my twenties to figure out how to do a load of laundry, I wouldn’t be broadcasting this as an achievement—I’d actually be embarrassed.

Did we lose sight of timeless wisdom, with its accompanying practices and discipline, or are we witnessing a trending streak of online culture that presents the highest level of stagecraft for attention, “adulting” being one of them?

Maybe I’m just being crotchety?

I hope it’s not the latter as I do have high hopes for the future and see so much good in the young people today, but the question needs to be asked.

It was the combination of Christmas and finishing two books, The Case for God by Karen Armstrong and The Universal Christ by Richard Rohr (both of which I’ll review soon), that opened a deep well within my heart.

Both books pointed towards a truth I inherently knew, but couldn’t articulate. They pointed me towards something I felt, but never certain it was right.

A feeling, after all, is just that sometimes.

They pointed toward a deep sense of mystery about the universe and a joy in all things if we are willing to open our eyes to it.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the frustrations, turmoil and anger that exists in the world that we feel our only choices are to counter it with our own, give up completely or worse, attempt to control it. The irony of trying to order a universe that is already ordered and couldn’t give a damn what we think is lost on so many.

Yet, there is a beauty to all things… to all people… that we can never forget. It comes to us in moments and in whispers, always causing us to sit back and smile.

It’s a picture that cannot be captured on any device and a memory that no video will ever convey the feeling of at that time.

It’s the moment we realize this is what life is for if we would just open our eyes to it more. And the most wonderful part is everyone can access it.

It was my second year of studying Theology that my faith broke.

As a knowledge seeker, someone obsessed with learning (probably why teaching seems to be a good fit), the material was breaking me down. Every preconceived notion I held was shattered.

For me, faith was over.

And then it slowly rebuilt, but in a more mature way. It felt more solid, despite being chaotic in the way it was coming back together.

Then during my graduate work, a fellow student remarked the goal of a good school of Religion is to break you down and force you to rebuild. I had never thought about it that way.

Since that time, my own religious understanding has broken and rebuilt several times.

Each time it comes back stronger, but less certain. In fact, it’s the uncertainty itself that makes it strong… and the only reason it keeps breaking is because of a belief that certainty is even needed.

It seems to be the reason why all of us break at some point: the things we know for sure are the very things that come undone.

But when they do, it’s a grand moment to rebuild them again—because they come back in a grand way.

Normally at this time of year, I am gearing up for the holidays and reflecting on this past year in order to make a pathway for the next. However, given this year was seriously derailed by an unprecedented number of factors, I’ve had to really collect myself.

My writing here has been sparse as I considered the multitude of what has happened and what that will mean for me going forward. I’m still working on it, but I’ve managed to crystalize a few ideas.

First, the most important thing is to count my blessings. My wife and I are still working, our family is safe and we have absolutely everything we need… and a whole lot more. It became too easy to continuously think about what we’re lacking, especially as areas went into lockdown (and are still going into lockdown), instead of recognizing the amount of excess in our lives.

Second is to never take anything for granted. Even the occasional frequent Ikea breakfast runs my family took on the weekends are being missed.

Third is to avoid the noise. My intake of social media and news hit its apex during the summer when I recognized only a few minutes a day on each platform would provide more than enough information to catch me up on the days proceedings. Anything more was just a waste of time.

Fourth is to be thankful for the many technological advancements. Being able to video chat with my family and friends, have supplies delivered to my door at the push of a button and working remotely from home went beyond mere conveniences. It signified a complete shift in culture—one that happened in a mere twenty years.

Finally, my friend Andrew advocates for a keyword each new year; a mantra to focus on in all that you do. This year has pointed me to the one I will be using for 2021: Simplicity.

I will speak more to it as we get closer to the countdown, but if the world will not reflect and remake itself in response to all that has happened, I will.

Before I fall asleep at night, my brain likes to remind me of all my past inequities.

That stupid thing I did ten years ago…
The dumb comment I made as a teenager…
A bad decision as a kid…
The head shaking moments during college/university…

They all come back to haunt me in one form or another, pelting me with regret. Even though time has evaporated those moments into a blip of the cosmic memory, they still exist as a present pain.

It’s impossible to just ‘move on’ from those moments in life when we’re still holding on to them. They lock us in a prison cell of emotion, which then surface in other ways. The grip on these moments need to be released and that can only be done when there’s a willingness to forgive.

Forgive yourself.

It’s simple, but not easy.

It must be learned and it must be practiced.

Then, it might be possible to forgive others as well.