One day, while deep within a visualization meditation, I saw my future self wearing a dragonfly pendant. They were staying in a glass house on a cliff above the ocean to housesit for a friend (they would never want to live in a place like that for themselves). They wore a long, sleeveless cardigan with billowing pants, and they had a proud afro that danced in the wind like their salt-and-pepper hair.
I don’t remember what they said to me in that vision while they took my hands in theirs. I will probably have to confer to them again another time. I do remember, though, what they looked like so that I could later remember what I would look like in twenty years.
So, as a parting gift to you, this wonderful year, I’ve bought a dragonfly pendant to wear around my neck, and I have written this annual letter to you.
Thank you for being another amazing year where I did some pretty cool things and learned even more about myself.
In January, pulsatile tinnitus introduced me to the world of ultrasounds, CT scans, MRIs, and MRAs. While I’m glad that my pulsatile tinnitus is more of a nuisance than something serious, it has certainly been a wake-up call to take better care of my health and to find ways to reduce stress in my life. Exercise shall be one of them.
In February, I turned 30 and received an Impact Fellowship from Author Accelerator, embarking on a journey that I didn’t know was possible. With the help of my mentor and the Author Accelerator community, I learned about an art that was as easy as breathing for me—to tell stories and help others do the same.
In March, I interviewed for an editorial assistant position that I didn’t end up getting. I hated that my lack of in-office experience seemed to prevent me from moving forward, and I came to see that I was even more blunt and honest in other interviews. To come so close only to be met with the feeling of not being quite perfect enough was hard, but it was a necessary redirection that would lead me to the proper paths.
In April, I revised my thesis submission and submitted it to UC Riverside’s Palm Desert MFA archives, where it shall sit forever.
In May, I hit 100,000 words on the latest draft of #FeatherWIP, and it felt amazing to hit that milestone again.
In June, I quit my job at the bookstore. I ate and left no crumbs for my graduate lecture, and I confidently walked across the stage to get my MFA degree. I saw brilliant shooting stars out in the desert with friends. I had way too much caffeine over the span of a few days. And, I also got incredibly sick, but thanks to plenty of chicken soup and rest, I got back on my feet.
In July, I bumbled around on Bumble and ran back-to-back-to-back D&D sessions. The summer was lit, and I had a lot of fun with it.
In August, I hosted my inaugural Work That Pitch! workshop with Ashley Granillo, and I learned about how much better it felt to spend an entire day on just one kind of task rather than being pigeon-holed into doing things a certain way. Such is the art of monotasking, which I wrote about here on Substack.
In September, I mostly just worked. I did a few sensitivity reading jobs for Simon and Schuster, Sourcebooks, and Chronicle Books. Things sped up a little bit, and I wasn’t quite prepared for them. But, as with most things, I got it done.
In October, I visited my family up north and got some much-needed perspective. I know that I’m meant for much bigger things, and if I can keep moving the needle, I’ll get there.
In November, I learned that I am at level 1 on the autism spectrum and that it would be up to me to resist an impending fascist regime from my government.
In December (now), I reaffirmed my writing and publication goals, and I became an Author Accelerator-certified fiction book coach. For most of 2025, I’ll be polishing #FeatherWIP to get it into querying shape by September or sooner. I’m hoping that even more exciting writing opportunities will be coming my way soon.
All because you, 2024, were such a great lily pad for my translucent wings.
All the best,
Karen
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