One thing I do have my sights set on is running, as one of my 2022 goals had been to run a race. I ended up running 3 of them in 2022, all 5Ks, and when I’d set out as a new runner early in the pandemic, being able to run a 5K was really my only eventual goal. Having met it, and really having enjoyed the process, I found myself gradually increasing the distance of my runs. To the point that I knew I wanted to tackle a 10K in 2023.

Every New Year’s Eve I write a letter to myself. I type it, actually, on the vintage typewriter I bought with my tax return while living in New York City. I do this partly because the typewriter was expensive and I’m still trying to get my money’s worth.

What is a year, really? There’s that iconic Rent song, of course, that boils it all down to love—probably a more accurate measure than we realize. But if you really take a look at a year, what is it?

I would give a writing update, only I don't have one. Like, none at all. Because I haven't been writing. It's shameful. Not to say there's nothing in the works, because I did recently get asked to contribute to a book of essays being published and had a fun (read: rather torturously self-reflective) time writing that one, and I may be part of a group of single women writers launching a blog forum in the near future, so, there are writerly things happening. But as for progress toward my next book, who has the time? The answer is, not me.