Last year didn’t turn out how I anticipated. You can read my writing reflections for 2022 and 2023 if you want to experience some dramatic irony – this time last year, I was waiting for an acceptance into at least one of the fully-funded MFA Creative Writing programs I applied for. I knew they were near impossible to get into – thousands of applicants whittled down to a cohort of a dozen – and so I assured everyone, including myself, that I wasn’t getting my hopes up. But my true (flawed) confidence is revealed in the fact that I did not compose a back-up plan in case I got rejected.

I found myself a month shy from college graduation with a clean sweep of rejections. I was honestly surprised. Something something ego death.

I was deeply disturbed by my life’s sudden lack of direction. I lamented it to anyone who would listen (you know who you are – thank you). I won’t bore you with the details, but I ended up in a place I never imagined for myself: continuing to study mechanical engineering. My younger self, who hated engineering so vehemently it kept her up at night, is seething with betrayal. Sorry, love. Your edges have softened, I guess.

Where does that leave my writing? I wanted to dedicate myself to it fully via MFA, but now I’m a bit like a nun rejected from the monastery. It’s hard not to feel like I’ve taken a step backwards. My goal for 2024 was to remember that when writing feels futile, that’s the time when I need it the most. Bravo, 2024. Life goes on.

My workshop friends and I continued to meet once a week. Michael and I started a novella-writing challenge that I completed in summer. It was my first longform work in years, and it felt really good. It’s about academic competition, astronomy, death, Florida. All the good stuff. In the past few years, I feel like my writing and the way I view myself as a writer has dramatically shifted. It was interesting to write a longform work inside this new persona. No more shootout action scenes to pad my wordcount, just a lot of talking. How boring to be an adult (don’t worry, I actually love it).

I published two short stories – The Ocean Means Baptism and If You Don’t Remember, Who Will?. We started this Substack, for which I wrote 6 new essays/stories! Overall, about 30,000 new words last year!

So, what are my goals for 2025? I don’t fucking know. Write something. Don’t give up, even when you don’t know what you’re working toward.