2019, for me, was a combination of fun times and existential dread. I love my family and friends and the time I spend with them. I released my second novel, completed the first draft of a third, and started on my fourth. I had plenty of consulting work and money in the bank. I had great times playing Dungeons & Dragons, Pokemon GO, poker, and a bunch of other games.
At the same time, I worried for my daughter’s future. Climate change is an existential threat, guns in schools are a constant worry, and every major city in California has tent cities filled with homeless people, many who are drug addicts and/or mentally ill. And our leader? We have a racist, short-sighted, vindictive president backed by at least 40% of the country.
I worry for myself as well. Will I stay healthy? Will I continue to have enough work as a freelancer? Will enough people buy and review my novels that publishers stay interested? But in my wiser moments I can see that these worries are just manifestations of my desires (longevity, wealth, fame in my profession) and are self-inflicted; being grateful for what I have in the moment is usually the remedy.
