Oh hi.

I've become sort of lax with the blog updates lately, and there's a reason for that.

With all this talk of New Year's resolutions, I got to thinking. I turn 25 this year, and if 24 was a hard pill to swallow, 25 is going to be a real bitch. If my birthday rolls around and I still haven't accomplished anything noteworthy in a quarter century, I probably won't be able to get out of bed for five days. It would not be a good situation.

Then I got to thinking about what I want to do with my life. Easy answer: I want to be a writer. Specifically, I want to be a novelist. And it occurred to me that wanting to be a novelist is not like, say, wanting to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I don't have to wait for the job to be given to be. If I want to write books for a living, the only thing that is stopping me from writing books for a living is the fact that I'm completely lazy and unmotivated.

So, as those of you who can add two and two together may have already guessed, I'm writing a book. And normally, I wouldn't even announce that, because I think that people who talk endlessly about their creative career goals are totally annoying, not to mention there's nothing in the universe more obnoxious than the person who wants to write the next great American novel. Which, incidentally, is not what I'm trying to write. At all. But I figured if I posted my intention publicly, it would force me to be accountable. Because if there's one thing I'm not so good at, it's holding myself accountable for things I say I'm going to do.

So. I haven't had much time for blogging because I'm forcing myself to write at least 1000 words a day. Which, if the average novel has between 80,000 and 120,000 words, means that I'll finish the first draft sometime in April or May if I remain on task. So even if I decide my actual life's calling is to paint still lifes of baked goods or be a contestant on Cycle 11 of America's Next Top Model or something, I've got a cushion. Or else I could get an agent in that time. And a publisher. And like, actually make a career of it.

And in case you were wondering, it's total chick lit. Quirky, sarcastic chick lit for smart girls, but chick lit nonetheless. Because, the thing is, after a long day at work, I don't really want to go home and read Dostoyevsky. I want to read something light and fun, but that isn't so vapid that my brain cells will start killing themselves in protest. Which, let's face it, a lot of chick lit is. But then I read authors like Caprice Crane (she's in my friends list; check her books out because they're hilarious and underappreciated) and it renews my faith that there is a market for smart, funny books geared toward women. So...I'm writing one. And if you enjoy my blog, you'll enjoy it. Because if you find me amusing now, just wait until you read me when I'm not confined to boring reality.