Every Monday, I post here on Tumblr a MonDiary entry, a look back at the highlights of the previous week and/or an account of the expectations I have for the week to come. And because it’s a new year and a new blog, I start with what I want to do the most this 2017. Here’s my MonDiary:

Many moons ago, I realized something:

I will never be a writer if I don’t write.

It’s a cliché, I know. (And an obvious fact.) Many of the authors I’ve read about have given the same two pieces of advice. One, to read as many books as one can read.  And two, to write constantly. Daily. Make it a part of the routine.

So let’s get the cliché out of the way, shall we?

I want to be a writer. I spent the last two years of my life as a college dropout who broke my parents’ heart to chase The Dream, the dream to put pen to paper, to fill each page with scenes and characters and places that I made up in my mind. I really want to be a fucking writer, to see my name on the front cover of a book, and to honor my parents the way I never did when I decided not to graduate.

Fuck, I want to be a writer.

I want to share my stories with an audience. I want people to hear the voices I hear when I can’t fucking sleep at night, or when I’m in the shower thinking about the great mysteries of life. I want to express, to talk, to have a conversation with people. I want to bring my readers to an adventure that will make them nostalgic, that will hopefully inspire, that will make them feel less alone when they just can’t fucking sleep at night.

Profanities aside, I really do want to be a writer. I’ve wasted way too many moons not doing what I promised myself I would do, what I said I want to do. I think it’s about damn time that I finish what I started. This year will not end without my name on the cover of a book. Goddamn it if it did.