I always get these great ideas for stories, this whole novel that unfolds in my head, I can see the characters and I can hear their voices, I can see them cruising down the highway while singing obnoxiously to Death Cab for Cutie or Radiohead, but I put it off. I’m sitting in the airport, I’m walking to class, I’m drinking coffee while it’s raining, and these beautiful and infinite characters come to me, and I don’t write them down. I say to myself, well, maybe I’ll write these stories when I’m older, when I’m a better writer, when I’ve got more life experience, you know, maybe I’m too young to give my opinion on life, and that’s complete bullshit. I need to stop procrastinating. Even if the story will end up as some forgotten file on my computer, I need to just write, write, write because I’m not going to become a better writer by sitting on my ass and dreaming of the future, dreaming of becoming a better writer. Even if the writing is terrible. Even if the story is underdeveloped, lacks complexity, lacks a message. Even if writing is painful. I need to do it. I need to write because I’m a writer, and denying that to myself is like denying a human love or food or oxygen. I know I don’t really believe in making resolutions for the new year, but I’m resolving to write more and to write often, not just for 2012, but for the rest of my life.