It’s good to remember that we aren’t the first folks trying to speak to the hearts, minds, and souls of others. Some of the truest words ever consigned to paper came long before our arrival on the scene. I think Alfred Lord Tennyson’s words above prove that quite eloquently, especially for the demise of 2021. As he says in his classic poem, “let him go.”  (Full poem below.)

Now it’s time to look forward to what we can accomplish in 2022. Who can we touch with our writing? And how can we make this brand new year better for our families, our friends, our neighbors, and ourselves? Small things can make huge differences in the lives of others, as well as in our own lives, and we have the power to accomplish them. 

Personally, I want to strive to be the best I can be at whatever I’m tackling at any given time. From writing the next Great American Novel to cleaning the bathtub, I’m going to aim to do my very best. And the moment I  wake up each morning, I’m going to remind myself how lucky I am to have another chance to do everything better.

Good plan, huh? But just thinking about it won’t “get ‘er done,” as we say around here. I know I’ll have days now and then when I don’t meet my goals, but ONE day is just that: a day, out of a week, out of a month, out of the year. A bad day doesn’t mean I’ve failed and should just give up on my goals.

So that’s basically where I am today, my friends. I’m back now, and I’ll gradually be getting all my regular blogging features back up and running. And I hope some of you are thinking about being guests on The Write Stuff this year. I’m eager to help you promote your books, and I know many of you will reciprocate when you can. This writing/blogging community of ours is filled with generous souls who support each other, and I’m so blessed to be a small part of it. Whaddya say we make this year a wonderful one for writing, publishing, and sharing with each other? 

I believe in US!!

Happy New Year, and Gloriously Happy Writing!

Alfred Lord Tennyson – 1809-1892

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.