Earlier this week, I was thinking about my resolutions for this year, and I looked back on some from 2009 to see how I’d done:

1. Run a 5K with my friends, a 10K with my family, and a half-marathon with my husband. Check.

2. Smile and laugh more with my kids. Sort of check. I’ve done better, but there’s still room for improvement.

3. Plant a garden. No check. Failed miserably. Even killed my houseplants. Darn it!

4. Finish one of the books I’ve been writing. Check. I actually finished two. And started two more. Amazing, the time you have when you’re avoiding planting a garden…

This last resolution made me think about how much has changed in the past twelve months.  At this time last year, I wasn’t in a great place with my writing. (Notice that my resolution doesn’t say Publish a book, just Finish a book.)   Last year, my publisher had just told me that they were no longer interested in my work-in-progress, which I’d written 80,000 words of and which was almost done.  The economy was in shambles and they wanted me to do something less risky. They asked me to try my hand at something else…inspirational non-fiction. Non-fiction?!? I’m horrible at non-fiction. And even worse at being inspirational. (Clearly they had not read my blog.)

So I thought of a different fiction idea, and that was kind of our compromise solution. I wrote that book (and felt good about the way it turned out), submitted it, they loved it, and it’s coming out this month. (It’s Being Sixteen, for those who are interested, and it’s published by an LDS/Mormon publisher and has LDS/Mormon characters, just FYI.)  It felt good to write that book and at the time I felt like it was the best thing I’d ever written.  

And then I turned my focus to another idea, one I’d had since the fall of 2008 and had been dabbling away at now and then. It was an idea triggered by a combination of a middle school memory (if you grew up in the 90′s like I did, perhaps you remember computer-generated “matching” dances) and a conversation that my husband had with his colleagues about marriage and government. The idea turned into a book unlike anything I’d written before.  I finished it in August of this year and some really good things have happened since then.

And hopefully, sometime in the new year, I’ll be able to tell more of the details. But for now, I’m just really happy I didn’t quit. Because I thought about it. Very seriously, for a little while. I thought that maybe it was time to put writing on the back burner.  I do have young kids, and while I only write when they’re asleep or at pre-school, maybe they would appreciate having photo albums, or a clean house, or, you know, a garden.  

We all do this–think about quitting–don’t we?  (Don’t we?) But then we realize that we can’t quit, because we’re writers (or dancers, or runners, or musicians, or whatever your passion is), and that’s who we are, so we might as well get used to it.  Because whatever happens after, it’s about those moments when you’re doing what you love, and you’re doing it simply because you love it, with no thought about what comes next.

Remember dating? I’m old (31), and I’ve been married for a long time (10 years!), but I still remember dating. You’d get all ready, try to look nice, wait at the door (or go pick the person up and stand at the door waiting for them to open it). And waiting for that door to open, whichever side you were on, you’d wonder how things were going to go. Was this going to be “the one”?

I don’t necessarily mean “the one” as in “the one you’re going to spend the rest of your life with” (although that is certainly something that I can and did think). Often it was just a blank question…”Are you the one…” and almost anything could go in those blanks: Are you the one who will make me laugh so hard I cry? Are you the one who will give me a compliment so kind and genuine that I will think about it years later, when neither of us know where the other is? Are you the one who will make me forget about that other one?

You try not to think: Are you the one who will break my heart? or Are you the one who will make so many clever–to you–innuendoes that I start keeping a tally and thinking about how at least this date will be a funny conversation for later? You try to have hope. That’s why you keep opening (or knocking on) that door when you’re dating.

So. I’m certainly not the first person to use the dating/reading analogy. But this is how I feel about a new book. I always hope it’s going to be “the one.” I don’t know what one. The one I read until the pages are worn and tired, although the story never will be. The one I like so much I don’t ever read again in later years, for fear I will find it different now that I am different. The one that is just decadent and fun to read. The one that makes me laugh when I needed it. The one that makes me want to write. The one that makes my child smile.

So, happy holidays to everyone out there in readerland. May there be books in your future, and may you find “the one” too.

There were some great questions in the comments–which I promise to answer in one of my posts in January. Thanks for asking them. I feel so fancy having actual questions to answer.

The most frequently-asked question I get as a writer is this one: How do you find time for writing with small children at home?

I’ve actually answered it on the blog before, a long time ago, but I think it vanished from the archives when we redid the site, so I’m happy to do it again.

(I actually, hilariously, had someone with a 9-5 job say once, “I wish I were a stay at home mom like you. I would have so much more time to write.” Which is not to say that I think it’s harder to write as a stay-at-home mom; I’m just saying it’s still like having a job if you’re doing it right, which I try very hard to do.)

The short answer is this: I am really disciplined about it. That doesn’t mean I sit down and write for hours, but I make time to write every day. Notice that I used the word “make.” I don’t have a sitter or a big block of time that just waits for me to write. I have to take it from something else. I usually take it from sleeping or housework. I don’t run as much as I once did. I don’t go out with friends very often. It also helps to have a husband who works every evening. So when the kids are in bed, it’s not like I am missing out on time with him if I work.

Does this stink sometimes? Yes. Because I know lots of people who watch actual television shows, or go to movies. Or, you know, make photo albums for their kids. (My poor kids.) Or have down time and relax in the evenings. Read books. Make treats for their neighbors during the holidays. (My poor neighbors.)

I think my secret, if I have one, is that I’ve been disciplined long enough (I’ve been writing daily since 2002) that this is now a habit.

But. That doesn’t mean that it’s magic. Like today. I wrote a little bit during naptime and it was all kind of bad, now that I’m reading it. I’ll probably delete it. And my husband is taking the night off from grading. And I’m thinking that wrapping the kids’ presents and having hot chocolate together sounds like much more fun than writing. Don’t you?

Feel free to leave any other questions in the comment area, as always. I am having a hard time thinking of things to blog about lately. As you can probably tell!

This weekend I ran a 50-mile relay with some friends from high school, my husband, and my sister.

The scenery was gorgeous (I love me some Southern Utah red rock). (Except for the part where I had to run through an industrial park, but you know. It could have been worse. I’m still kind of scarred from the runner on another team who decided to change his shorts by the side of the road. Eeee.)

But the company was the best part.

I count good friends among my greatest blessings in life. People who have known you for a long time, who have moved past both your best and worst qualities and who know you for the middle ground, the person that you really are. People who celebrate when you do, who cry with you, who make you laugh. And who let you do the same for them.

In the picture above, my teammate Justin is running the wrong way on a freeway offramp. This was what he was supposed to do–it was part of the course–but I loved this image.

Friends are also those who tell you, in whatever way you need to hear or will listen, when you’re going the wrong way. And they are the ones at the sideline screaming for you when you are pushing through something hard, running faster than you thought you could.

In other news, I’m doing a book signing this weekend in Orem. More details here. I’d love to see you there!

I’ve had poetry on the brain lately.

I went through a big poetry-writing phase in elementary school, back when I wanted to do everything Anne of Green Gables and Emily of New Moon did, and then didn’t write any more until we had a poetry unit in AP English and had to write 10 poems.

I wrote the poems; I got a good grade, and they were really, really bad and I knew it. I am not good at writing poetry. But I have a lot of really great memories of that poetry unit. For example, when my friend Libby wrote a poem that began with the line, “How awful to be a banana these days.” And when someone stood up and read the lyrics to a song by Skee-Lo and passed it off as a poem. And several other poems which I cannot share here.

When I taught high school, I had students who were good at writing poetry. Exceptional, really. And sometimes it was surprising who was amazing at it. I still remember when the blonde, bubbly cheerleader who I thought had a perfect life wrote a poem of such depth and anguish that it made me cry. I always knew a lot of my students were smarter than I was, but the poetry unit really, really floored me.

Here’s my problem: I need to write a poem for the book I’m working on now. Well, I need my main character to write a poem, but obviously she cannot do it without my help. So I’m in big trouble. Every time I try to write the poem I start giggling. Because I’m so darn bad at it. And it’s supposed to be romantic! Not funny!

So: if any of my former high school students are out there, and you would like to ghostwrite my poetry, call me! Or else I’m going to have to contact Skee-Lo and see if he has any more lyrics he hasn’t used yet…