the Disappearing Resolutions

As we draw to the close of 2016, people all round the world are making new year's resolutions.

I tend not to do the resolution thing, any more than I buy diaries any more, and for much the same reason - their usefulness evaporates more often than not, the 'resolution' required to create real change rarely stands up to the grandness of such a universal anniversary. It's madness to start projects 'on the 1st of January' because to some extent it sets you up to fail. In the words of a famous green puppet, 'do, or do not. There is no try.' The burden of resolving to do something at new year is too much for most intentions to bear.

Hence the Disappearing simply as and when the vibe was there, rather than waiting for new year.

Still, let's have some fun with the new year.

Disappearing Resolutions

1. Lose 2 pounds a week, every week, in 2017, or its equivalent of 104 pounds by 1st January 2018.

2. Survive to the end of the year, despite the ascension of the First King of the United States, and the impending nuclear holocaust. There's Disappearing, and then there's Disappearing In A Cloud Of Ash.

3. Walk 20 miles. As a Thing, rather than across the course of the year.

4. Be in wherever we intend to stay for at least a few years, whether that means 'unpacked here' or 'unpacked somewhere entirely else.'

5. Find the charger for the goddamned exercise bike.


Literary Resolutions

6. Change the end of my novel, and submit it to every agent in the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook who takes the genre, or as many as are necessary.

7. Finish at least one more novel.

8. Hire a few more editors.

9. Write more audio stories.

10. Know all the reasons why I can't start a publishing company. Or start one.



There was gonna be a whole Personal Resolutions section here, but y'know what? I have three minutes before the end of 2016. Disappearing in the more conventional sense to kick this wretched year to death. Catch you in the year of potential destruction!