This year, I’m trying something different. Instead of setting goals that will be forgotten by March, I’m making ones I’m certain I’ll keep.

 Here’s my list of can’t fail resolutions:

I will eat more chocolate.

And potato chips. And cinnamon candies. And tons of other foods I use for celebrations. I hope there are a lot of them. On days when nothing special happens, I will make up my own reasons for merriment. Meeting a writing goal. Getting a decent haircut.  Not hitting that terminally long red light on my way to work. I will celebrate ordinary events, and I will eat accordingly (for those of you think I’ve gone off the nutritional deep end, I’m looking into a juicer. There has to be a special event that calls for a kale/spinach/parsley cocktail.) 

I will get lost.

I live in New Jersey, a land of meandering roads with street signs that will point you toward your destination…eventually. I have ventured off the Garden State Parkway and found myself unable to get back. My GPS is equally perplexed by the NJ road system.  When it fails, I am left to wander. With writing too, my plot will turn in unexpected ways. My characters will do something new, and I will lose my sense of direction.

Sometimes I intentionally take the wrong turn. If I’m lucky I’ll find a beach or a place to get a bucket of blueberries. I enjoy getting lost. It’s what happens when you leave the familiar behind and venture into something new.  And new places mean new possibilities.

I will take on too much.

In 2010, I’m going to finish my work-in-progress, work full-time as a librarian, go on class/library visits for my debut book, spend time with family and friends, possibly buy a house and probably deal with an occasional crisis or two. Like everyone else, I’m juggling a lot. Oh sure. I’ll drop a few balls this year. Something will come crashing down. It’s one of the consequences of having a busy (and full) life. But except for that occasional crisis, there’s not a thing here I’d give up.

I will feel guilty. 

I’m convinced that guilt is an archetypal theme that runs through the new millennial American experience. There will be times when those unanswered emails, unfinished projects, and all the things I should have/could have/would have done better if only I had more time will keep me awake at night. But I know my guilt comes from doing too much (my choice) or perhaps from eating too much chocolate (my choice again) so I will try to let myself off the hook.

 I will find some quiet time.

Somewhere in the chaos, I’ll find a moment to take a few deep breaths, glance up at the moon or stare out at the bay (and also go late night channel surfing and play way too many games of Spider Solitaire).

 I will read a book that takes my breath away.

It’s happened every year since I started reading so it’s pretty much guaranteed. I never know which book it will be or why. A single sentence. An idea. The book as a whole. Perhaps it will make me see the world in a whole new way or maybe something familiar will be so well articulated that it will make me wonder why I never noticed it before. Everything I know about writing and storytelling will be challenged.   I will hold that book in my hands, and I will feel grateful.

 Happy New Year!

About The Author

Nan Marino grew up in Massapequa, New York, the same town as Jerry Seinfeld, the Baldwin brothers and the musical group The Stray Cats. While they were preparing for fame and fortune, Nan spent her childhood daydreaming in oak trees and on top of garage roofs. She did come down to earth for an occasional game of kickball. Nan is a librarian who lives at the Jersey shore with her husband and an energetic dog.  Read more about Nan Marino.

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