It’s hard to believe that in just two days, 2024 will be behind us. I know it’s a cliché, but time does seem to speed up every year. Sometimes I wish it would stand still long enough to allow me to catch up with everything that’s happened. So many things change from one year to the next, even as other aspects of life remain stagnant. Somewhere inside it all, I still feel as if I’m the same person I ever was, even as so many aspects of me and my life evolve with the passing years.

I don’t know many people who would say 2024 was a “good”  year, at least not globally. Painful, violent conflicts are raging in too many parts of the world for the word “good” to apply. Of course, many people had positive things happen in their personal or professional lives, and thus we have the strange dichotomy in which we live –existing, even sometimes happily and successfully, in our personal worlds while feeling anxiety about what lies beyond our personal walls. When the two collide, anxiety often reigns over both.

 As for my own positive news from 2024, I did see two new books published by Huntsville Independent Press – Message from a Blue Jay’s 10^th Anniversary Edition and the fiction chapbook The Varmint and Other Short Stories. I was grateful this morning to see the first five-star review on Amazon for the little fiction chapbook. If you have read any of my books, I have to say again how much online reviews mean to an author (on Amazon, Goodreads and/or BN.com). Those reviews make the books more visible and easier to find for potential new readers.

I also had several smaller pieces published in journals – two poems, several microfictions, and a review of Alison Stone’s new poetry collection, Informed. The two most recent drabbles, or 100-word stories, are Stars and Hope, both published in the online U.K. journal Friday Flash Fiction.

Still, as I’ve continued to write and publish, I’ve admittedly struggled to find a literary community that feels both welcoming and wise. I’m happy to say that talented, kind, perceptive, discerning, and knowledgeable writers and editors are out there. Their support, friendship, and guidance during challenging times is much appreciated. I’m also (and especially) grateful for the readers who continue to enjoy and support my work.

Recently, I saw the Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown.Although I’ve dabbled in music — from playing several instruments and singing in musicals through high school to playing guitar and singing in a few coffeeshops in my day —  the artistic message of A Complete Unknown stretched far beyond music (especially since Dylan is as much a literary poet as a musician).

Let me pause here to share a personal anecdote – I once crossed paths with Bob Dylan. I was on a plane headed to Norway with my first husband, Aaron, who remains a good friend to this day. We were bumped up to first class thanks to another friend who worked for the airline, and she let us know that Bob Dylan would be seated nearby. She even gave us copies of his tickets as souvenirs (though I’ve long lost mine).

Throughout the long flight, Dylan sat quietly with the hood of a pale blue sweatshirt pulled as far as he could pull it over his face. I think he was reading for much of the flight. He didn’t talk to anyone, although he was polite to the flight attendants when they served him a drink or meal. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be noticed or bothered (and after seeing the recent movie, I understand that even more). After we got off the plane, Aaron and I happened to stand right behind him on an escalator that took us down one floor to passport control. Dylan looked at us before we got on the escalator, but he said nothing.

Of course, I’d been listening to Bob Dylan’s music all my life, and it was surreal to be standing behind him on an escalator, staring at that famous mop of hair, so close I could have reached out and touched it.

But what I remember the most is how clearly Bob Dylan just wanted to be left alone.

Not many people who walk this earth have the level of talent in any field – artistic or otherwise—that Bob Dylan has in one fingertip. However, every artist makes choices about what to express through their art, how to express it, and whether or not to prioritize the acceptance of others and society’s traditional definition of “success.” If you’re lucky, your choices align with achieving whatever success you seek.

But for many artists and writers, being true to one’s self is a different choice than pursuing traditional “success.” If you’re an unquestionable, once-in-a-lifetime talent like Bob Dylan, the world will follow whatever choice you make. For the rest of us, the path can be more difficult. I’ve experienced some of that this year as I’ve begun to shuffle off not the mortal coil, but the coil of external pressure – the pressure to accommodate and align with current trends, both literary and political. I reached a line in the usual path that I was not willing to cross in order to be accepted and perhaps more successful. So I diverged onto a path of my own.

What occurred to me after I watched A Complete Unknown was that maybe the point of the movie wasn’t that Bob Dylan didn’t – and doesn’t – have to care what anyone thinks because he is Bob Dylan. Maybe, in fact, he is Bob Dylan because he doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

Well, that and all of that indescribable talent, of course.

As 2024 comes to a close, I think I can say that I feel comfortable with my choice to go my own way on my literary journey, whether or not it brings traditional success now or in the future. I’m looking forward to seeing where that choice takes me. For one thing, I hope to soon share news about my next project – an international one – with you soon. Something lovely and exciting is coming in 2025.

Until then, stay safe and don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself. I’ll see you on the flip side.