Say what you like or dislike about the changing of time, one cannot deny that it’s flying right at our faces.

And even though it’s like a jarring wooden roller-coaster throwing you one way and another, almost pulling you out of the seat at curiously sharp peaks, it is worth the adrenaline.

How was my 2023? I’d describe it as Kafka-esque; it was a Metamorphosis. In this analogy, I’m going for the rather grotesque and accurate science description of a caterpillar into butterfly. That is to say, I was in a nice little corner of the world when I started to disintegrate into elements before realigning with my new form.

It is weird and jarring. Maturity has a very different style, which I quickly adapted with the seasons.

So what does this have to do with writing, of establishing myself as a writer?

In 2023 I crawled out of some corner of the internet, to land on a different platform. WordPress seems to foster a friendly environment for bloggers, so I am blessed in that aspect. My previous attempts have paid off as well: I have built a basic, nice brand that I’m happy with; my SEO tagging is automatic, if not improving; and I enjoy looking forward to Wednesday posts, whither the pieces are ready or not.

I am comfortably persistent, letting the struggle of finding an identity to fade. I know what type of pieces I want to write. (Read as: I don’t know how to write a real-world romance without some type of wild shinnanagins.) I know my strengths are in visuals and some dialogue; I prefer to express myself in a raw manner, running to catch up with the thoughts in my head instead of looking for them.

I am happy that I finally finished writing that fantasy novel. The 6 year project amounted to 98,251 words… that are typed up. I still need to transfer over some notebook work! That easily puts me at, and over, 100,000 words.

Ho-a-lee cow! That is insane to me. When I had to write a thesis for a college major, the requirement was around 10 or 15 thousand words. That was like pulling tooth and nail. I had constant panic attacks. It was miserable and I questioned everything.

This time? It was a moving meditation, a literary marathon to crawl one word after another over the finish line. Who cares if this year I only clocked over 14k words in November? IT IS DONE. I DID IT!

How does that make me feel? Powerful. That I can finally be heard.

And I want other people to feel this way too.

At the end of the day, writing is an act of revolution, rebellion. By boldly presenting your thoughts, you are experiencing the freedom of speech and expression. It is a gift that ought to be shared with all. Literacy is the joy of learning to express, to become bold oneself.

In lieu of resolutions for 2024, let me suggest an alternative.

Let the start of the new year be Day 0, be a bold one. The day is a gift, one ready to share with others! Maybe it means curating a highlight reel for the anxious ones in your life. But please know how strong and amazing you are to share your experiences.

We need a cacophony of voices in order to enact change, to build necessary bridges, to understand what fears are driving us in circles.

So live boldly, head held high and feet firm on the ground. Take up your space and pull others up to your level.

From here, we can only go up.