What a year.Â When I look back on 2008, my thoughts can best be described in four simple words:
Man, fuck this year.
Seriously, fuck this year.Â 2008 contained such golden oldies as heart attacks, a cancer diagnosis, and a death in the family, divorces for close friends, dying pets, car crashes, facing addiction, a possible rabies diagnosis, and other things you usually only see in period literature.Â I mean, come on!
By the time October and November rolled around, I hated leaving the house and only rarely saw a point in getting out of bed.Â I closed myself off from family and friends and reverted to my old habit of sitting in a corner and hoping everybody would ignore me.Â Only the help of Shawna and a few of my closest friends got me through it with any sort of success.
Something strange happened, though.Â In the midst of all this tragedy, bother, and self-pity, I managed to have the best year my writing career has ever seen.Â I entered the year with two goals: Sell outÂ Just Like Hell’s print run within a year and sell a novel.Â I achieved the first within five months (with the help of Paul at Thunderstorm and a score of others), and there should be an announcement on the other sometime in the new year (because I’m really getting tired of sitting on the news).
In the course of the year I also sold a story to Cemetery Dance, finished three novels and wrote the first draft of a fourth.Â My writing improved by leaps and bounds, and I even received a few rather large checks for said writing.Â I’d toast myself if I wasn’t so committed to staying sober.
So that’s 2008.Â It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.Â Weird stuff.Â I probably wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t lived through it.
But really, can we just get to 2009 soon?