Gertie was her name.

And a farm is no place for a girl, her father thought. At least, perhaps no place for a broken-hearted girl. Well, here is her story.

You can only go for so long.

...until one day you open up the laptop again and begin typing a story. You can write 52 short stories a year, they say. I believe that is a conservative figure, but perhaps I am surrounded by inspiration beyond my bounds. A friend once asked me where on earth I get my ideas. I ask back, "Where DON'T I?" Turn your head side to side. Take heed of the misbehavior and general mistreatment of one human to another. I could be a better friend. I will be a better friend.

Time.

And today I promise myself, I schedule time for everyone else. I reserve my writing time for late at night. My yoga for early in the morning. This schedule isn't always the most effective, and may change. Most likely, it will, and the new year will find shock and awe as others see me not dropping everything I do to be at their beck at call. Forty wins. The next book wins. Love wins. My health wins. I am doing this to be a better future moi.