A Year’s End and a Cup of Questionable Cocoa
As this year stumbles toward its grand finale—tripping over
scattered rolls of wrapping paper and presents that could more easily be shoved
into gift bags—I find myself sitting quietly with a mug of cocoa that may or
may not still be warm. It’s early. Very early. The kind of early where a person
begins to ponder important questions like Why am I awake? and Did I
actually accomplish anything this year? This past decade? Or did I just
perpetually reorganize my website?
But then the memories drift in, floating like dust motes
that cleverly avoid vacuum cleaners. And I realize that… yes, I did accomplish things.
Quite a few things, actually.
Words That Wandered Off Without Permission
When I first started publishing, I had no idea that some of
my shortest lines—tiny thoughts scribbled in the margins of my brain and my
notebook—would wander off into the world and find homes in places I never
expected. Quotes I first scribbled on post-its became lines in my books and somehow
ended up taped to the desks of strangers. Some of my quotes were taped into
scrapbooks, displayed on classroom walls, printed in magazines, and shared
online by people who had no idea I was often venting or healing from what sparked
my thoughts and adages.
But nothing has delighted me quite so much as hearing, “I
needed your words today.”
It has been humbling. And a little surreal. Like watching your kids go out into
the world and manage themselves independently as kind, decent, responsible
adults.
Books, Books, and a Few More Books
Somewhere in the midst of my writing journey, I managed to publish
multiple books—fantasy adventures, reflective collections, poetry, and other
stories that insisted on being written. Each book release has been a bit like
sending a fragile little paper boat into a giant ocean. Miraculously, none of
them sank. Even more miraculously, people read them. Voluntarily.
Thank you.
When readers tell me a character speaks to them or a line
offers real comfort—well, those are the moments that fuel me more than any
amount of caffeine (and that is saying something).
Lessons Learned (Most of Them the Hard Way)
This past decade taught me discipline.
Which is a polite way of saying: I can write on days when the creative spark is
dead and buried and refusing resurrection.
It taught me revision and patience. (Some manuscripts I have
revised so many times they should be awarded frequent flyer miles.)
It taught me to trust my voice, even when that voice
occasionally mutters “This paragraph is awful” or “No one will ever
read this,” which, ironically, is often when someone emails to tell me it
was their favorite part.
The Not-So-Solitary Writing Life
Despite the stereotype of writers living in dark rooms
surrounded by stacks of books, sentimental possessions, and empty mugs (okay,
fine, that part is kinda true), I have been incredibly lucky to be part of a
creative community. I have met readers who share their hearts. I have met
writers who share their wisdom. I have met people who ask, “When is the next
book coming out?”—which is both the greatest compliment and the scariest
question ever.
Storytelling may happen in solitude, but I have learned that
being a storyteller is wonderfully crowded.
Gratitude, Giggles, and New Pages Ahead
As I wrap up 2025 and try not to devour the last of the
chocolate covered gummy bears, I feel immensely grateful. Grateful for
characters who whisper their stories at three in the morning, for readers who
embrace my stories (and don’t complain too much about my cliffhangers),
grateful for a husband who supports me wholeheartedly, and grateful for the
unpredictable ink-stained path that has somehow carried me through a full
decade.
I pray that 2026 and the next ten years will bring me creative ideas, new
manuscripts, leaps of faith—and a faster laptop. But for now, I am so very
thankful for the time and opportunity to craft my own stories.
Here’s to another year of quiet wonder, beautiful words, healing
laughter, and the special magic that happens when a book finds its perfect
reader.
— Richelle E. Goodrich
