Welp, there goes 2016, and I promised there would be a published book this year. In the loosest of definitions, someone could say my free book meets that goal, but I’m not that loose (sounded better in my head). I made and publicized a resolution, and I did not follow through, not for the first time.

It seems resolutions fail for one of two reasons: we put a timeframe on complex resolutions, and we fail to make simple ones. For instance, The Bride and I were in our twenties during the Flintstone Age when I promised to take her to Ireland, and I remade that promise every December for thirty-something years, if only in my mind. It did happen, but holy moly, I put myself through some emotion contortions every year we didn’t go.

There’s also the traditional resolution to look less like that portly fellow at the top of the post, but food and me have an intimate relationship. It’s been places inside me that make me feel better than I deserve (again, sounded better in my head). Weight loss would be easier if I resolved to lose five pounds instead of twenty or thirty (or fifty). Baby steps are smarter than pushing a boulder up the hill.

So 2016 closes without an online book because I couldn’t get out of my own way. Again. Dare I make the same promise as twelve months ago? Seems like a safe bet since I actually have a book in hand, edited and publishable, but I won’t make this promise until I hit the Amazon “publish” button. I’m getting conservative in my older age, that’s for sure.

 

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