Another year, another new year’s resolution. Or, maybe not. Last year I tried to keep my resolution simple, boiling it down to two simple words – write more. That’s it.

Write. More.

Easy to achieve, no?

No.

I wrote less last year than in any previous year. Not because I suffered an extraordinary bout of procrastination or laziness, but because of, well…life. Sure, I could point to the time demands of being a dad to two children under four, working a challenging day job, ill health, or any number of other prosaic excuses and they’d all be pretty damn valid.

The simple truth is I’m busy and as much as I’d like to write more I have various responsibilities that must come first. I must provide for my family, I must be a considerate and loving husband, and I must be a present dad.

It won’t always be this way. My children will not always require constant supervision to prevent them from drinking toilet water or eating glass. They won’t always want to play games with me. They will get older. They will not need me as much.

When that happens I imagine I won’t be thrilled to have so much more time on my hands. In fact, I’ll miss this period where I am the sun to their orbiting planets. Knowing this, I don’t feel too guilty about my lack of productivity. I love being a dad more than I love being a writer. The books will be written, they’re not going anywhere, but I won’t make promises I can’t keep.

And so, this year my resolution is even simpler than last year.

Live.

Just keep on living, keep on trying, hope for success and don’t wallow in failure. It’s all part of the same thing. It all leads to the same destination. We’ll get there together.

Here’s to a happy 2018.

M.J.