Wayne — Thanks!

Bev — Thanks! I think the year I was born there was a defect in the bolts that keep our heads screwed on straight. Mine need periodic adjustment. Ahh, that feels better now.

Susan — Thank you! I’m only giving up novel writing, unless and until I make a sale, not writing altogether. Writing is who I am. But when I began writing long fiction, I was like a kid with a new box of crayons. An overly ambitious kid, drawing on walls, obsessed with flowery nonsense. I used way too much pink at first. But I learned. Now my crayons are all stubby and the wrappers are worn off. Some of the colors are used up, gone. There are no longer any sharp edges to draw a fine line with. I think I got pretty good with them, while they lasted, but not apparently good enough to impress the people who provide fresh crayons and post the best drawings on the auditorium walls — even though the other kids and some of the teachers like some of what I’ve done. Now I’m tired of these old crayons and can’t afford a new box. Instead of sitting here feeling as old as my beat-up crayons, or waiting for them to be transformed by magic into new ones, I think I’ll try out that mound of clay over there for a while, and then maybe those glass beads. . . . All this time that I’ve fixated only on crayons, I’ve missed out on lots of other stuff. Nothing is forever, and it’s a brand new year.

Other than that, you do indeed have a terrific outlook here that will guide you (and help serve as a guide for others, me included) through the new year and beyond.

Wishes for all you wish for.

Happy, happy,
Bev

I don’t have any journals from when I was 18, thank goodness. I fear they’d be harrowing for me to read. And I’m not sure whether I’d be more horrified at how I’d been or that I was still much the same!

As for the choices, if you made a good choice on your spouse there’s nothing more important — except making the choice whether to marry or not.

Hope you have a great new year.