10. It will take you more than a month to write thank you’s from Christmas. When you finally have them addressed, you’ll carry them in your purse another two weeks before buying stamps.
9. Your mother will learn that you’d like to write a book. She’ll call crooning your talents. (Hi, mom.)
8. When you ask your husband if he’s read today’s post, he’ll shrug his shoulders and tell you to, “Spice it up a bit.” He’ll call your most recent posts formulaic and intimate boredom. You’ll stop speaking to him temporarily.*
7. Your ego will have you by the throat.
6. You will spend your January having read only one short essay and the meager beginnings of two other books. So much for the rigorous reading plan you’d said you’d follow this year.
5. You will feel more deeply and cry more often.
4. You will wonder why your best friend has never commented. You’ll have yourself soon convinced that she, like your husband, is reading and rolling her eyeballs.
3. You will drink too much coffee, and the caffeine will make you compulsively hungry. You will have trouble zipping your favorite jeans.
2. Your own words will terrorize you. You’ll be forced to face your hypocrisies, confront your fears, and unearth your pain. You’ll wish for the days when you were reading blogs, not writing your own.
1. Most days, you’ll wonder why you hadn’t just stuck with the laundry. Sorting socks isn’t the risky business this blog can be.
Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.
– Maya Angelou
*Marital harmony was restored this morning when said husband came back with a surprise cup of Starbucks. He has sufficiently atoned.