Today, I kick off the last year of my 20s. My first 29 years have been good to me, so I have no reason to feel otherwise about my quickly-approaching 30s.
As a teenager, when asked where I see myself by the age of 30, I answered in so many words, “married with children, and a good job.” Check. Check. Check. God has blessed me in tremendous ways. But in my head, there were two other “dreams” I had for myself: to be an anchor on the Today show, and have a published novel. Clearly, I’m not sitting next to Matt Lauer on weekday mornings, and if I had a published novel, I probably wouldn’t be channeling my inner-author through this blog.
I don’t particularly care for Matt Lauer after recent news and I quite like the new home we bought here in Ohio last spring, so I’ve surrendered the idea of being the next Meredith Vieira (after all, she IS the best female Today show anchor). But I’m not ready to give up on writing that novel.
On July 16, 2012 when I introduced myself to the blogosphere, I said, “As I approach 30, reality has set in. I probably won’t write a novel; at least not one for publication.” I am determined to prove my then 27-year-old self wrong.
Three weeks ago, I was walking down the sidewalk with Bridget and she let go of my hand to pick a white dandelion from the grass. I can’t explain why (yet!), but I had an immediate moment of clarity—a realization of the novel idea I’d always had somewhere in the back of my mind. I’m now roughly 5 hours and 3 pages into my novel, with ideas flowing through my head like a well-oiled machine. I have no idea if this aspiring novel will amount to anything, but if I don’t follow this revived momentum, I’ll regret it.
So here I go, attempting to check that last box off my by 30 list. At the pace I’ve been going, a year may be ambitious, but I’ll settle for a solid start.
Oh, and if my blog post volume is light this year, now you’ll know why. Stick with me, readers. Maybe one day I’ll sign my bestseller for you. Ha! A girl can dream, right?