Tomorrow I turn fifty-three years old. Birthdays always make me introspective. Where have I been? Where am I going? Am I doing the right things? Do I show enough love and attention to the people I care about?

This year, my thoughts drift inexorably to my writing. Am I doing this right? Do I show enough love and attention to my work? When will I have something tangible to show people?

Currently, I am sifting through the redlines for The Cinders of Your Mane. My editor and I experienced some early missteps because he is Australian and lives in Europe, whereas I am American and live in North America. Why does that matter? “Well,” I said, “because of something like this.” ‘Or maybe like this’. “Americans do quotes quite differently,” I noted. ‘Australians and British folks do them in a unique style.’

We worked through it.

Once I complete the redline edits, I’m eager to forge forward with publication on Draft2Digital. That will also mark the point where I can begin recording the audiobook version. I considered outsourcing the narration to a friend in California who works as a professional voice actor, but he’s booked solid for the next year. (He’s that good.)

But what else have I been up to? Well, the rough draft for Beasts & Brutality is complete. I need to find some polishing time for that before I submit it over to my editor, who is currently up to his elbows in both my work and that of other people. And I am halfway through writing The Stars Inside You — the sequel to The Cinders of Your Mane.

Meanwhile, Dot-God-Damn still needs a polish pass. It can wait, because my day job drains the life out of me. I’m not sure how well I fit in there, to be honest. I work in an unforgiving environment characterized by high turnover and burnout.

Yet I remain undaunted. I will keep after my own projects. I will maintain my income with a day job in the meantime. And I will find time for the people I love. But man, oh, man am I tired. Just read the news. The world feels like a toy in the hands of a violent toddler these days. It’s exhausting.

So happy birthday to me, still alive at fifty-three! And I already know the gifts I want: success with my writing, success with my audiobooks, and hope for a career outside technology. But those are gifts I need to earn. Idle talk doesn’t get the job done.

Time to blow out the candles and make those wishes real.