I am tired. I have thought all day it was the wrong day, which led me to write earlier that I’d been here four days, when I’d only been here for three. Not even three, since I got in Saturday afternoon. But it feels like I’ve been here for a while.
I’m quite tired. My foot is aching, and it hurts to take a step. I don’t know if it’s the boots I’m wearing combined with the mileage I’ve been walking, or if it’s true what they say that New York pavement is rougher and going for a run was probably in the top three of the dumbest things I’ve done to myself. I can’t go back out there tonight. It’s turned much colder. I’ve got snacks here, and IFC’s running A Decade Under the Influence. If I had a little wireless, this would be perfect.
I’ve had to sum up my year a few times now, and with each person the conversation tends to be focused on a different aspect, depending on if I know this person from my writing life or my social life, or is someone who’s beside me next to every day. One thing’s for sure, this has been an incredible year. It’s been difficult and challenging. It’s been rewarding and exciting. I’ve done things I never thought I’d do, and surprised myself with the way I’ve handled situations I never could have predicted. I’ve met people I want to keep in my life forever. I’ve had nights when I’m driving on the highway, crying so hard I’m howling, wondering how everything got to be so enormous.
I’ve seen my name on television. More than once. I got to perform at a comedy festival that had been a goal of mine since I started in this business. I wrote two novels; one of which will be published next year, one of which will never see the light of day. I worked on a pilot for a cable network, sharing an exhaust-heavy office with two writers. I worked on a comedy show for a different cable network, sharing a freezing office with just one co-worker. Then I went network, baby. Had my own office with a couch.
I got turned down for lots of jobs. I scored a few sweet gigs.
I watched some movies. I listened to countless songs.
I have a few things to show for this year. But those things came with some sacrifices. Some damage. I’m thankful for what I got to do and see, for the people I got to know and work with, for the challenges I was offered, for the opportunities I was given. I tried not to fuck up. I tried really hard.
Here I am in this apartment that is because of someone’s generosity, and I know this person because of my work. I’m here to see my editor and agent, who want to discuss my latest novel, and have our yearly meeting. I’m here because I’m doing The Thing. Making it work. Hustling and working, keeping my head in the game.
But I’m also here by myself. That’s the biggest change in my life this year. For much of it, I had to be alone. I don’t write with a partner. The only way a book will be written is to sit still and write the whole thing. And while I work with a staff on the shows, there’s still a lot of time when I’m by myself, cranking out pages. I went from a life where I was beside my (now) husband day after day, for five years. We were almost always together. And now this year we barely got to see each other. It was a big change for us, for him, for me. It made us have to work differently, and it made us have to be self-sufficient in new ways. It also makes us have to be better at reaching out and letting the other one know, “Hi. I missed you. I’m right here.”
[This entry got interrupted right here by a phone ringing or something, and then there was a transit strike and… well, anyway, this is all I wrote that night.]