A letter to myself concerning new year's resolutions.
The year begins with good intent
as people pledge to reach their goals.
Their optimism evident,
they dream of playing better roles.
So, Bob, what are your plans this year?
You really need to get a grip.
Don't waste your time on girls and beer.
If you're confused then here's a tip.
Reflect upon what's in your heart —
the reason why you want to write.
Perhaps you want to top the chart —
that's why you're working through the night.
Or do you hunger most for cash,
enough to pay your debts and more,
just churning out commercial trash
while jealous critics you ignore.
Perhaps you wish to leave your mark —
a record of your time on Earth.
You won't be swallowed by the dark;
you'll show the future what you're worth.
Or is it art for art's own sake
that drags you out of bed each dawn,
a perfect masterpiece you'll make
dismissing other books as porn?
You claim that you could write a book
that touches people's hearts and brains,
but talk to any seasoned cook —
they sweat before achieving aims.
A novel has a recipe
just like the most delicious cake.
The final product readers see
took patience, time and toil to bake.
Procrastination is your flaw;
you need to focus on the plot.
Although that editing’s a chore,
you'll get results you like a lot.
But don't forget you love to write
immersed in words that rhyme and flow.
Remember why you joined this site —
how other's praise can make you glow.
So shake your ass and make a start —
each book begins with but one word.
It's not enough to just be smart —
you also have to bloody work.
Now set yourself some concrete goals
that help achieve your final aim.
Choose tasks that really stoke the coals
of your ambition to find fame.
First, finish off that manuscript —
the one you've worked on many years.
Redundant scenes must all be ripped
away before review by peers.
Then work on something new by May —
a novel project, nothing short.
Your shorter stories do not pay,
so write an epic set in court.
And waste less time on poetry,
because it doesn't pay the rent.
Although it is your cup of tea
just think of all the time that's spent.
It's time to face reality,
forsaking your deluded dreams.
Why can't you lift your eyes to see
and save yourself frustrated screams?
That's all I want to say to you,
you lazy, good-for-nothing slob.
You know that all I wrote is true.
You have to make an effort, Bob!
With much needed tough love,
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