It felt sadly symbolic that a year largely defined by its unpleasant moments ended with the death of Betty White, the Nicest Woman In America.

When she died Friday at the age of 99 and 347/365ths, Betty White remained what we telescope our mother or grandmother or favorite aunt to have been — a perpetually nice person, always upbeat, never a harsh word about anybody or anything.

Without suggesting any negative inside information about Ms. White, that probably underestimates her. It makes her seem like a two-dimensional figure, which she very likely was not.

I imagine that Betty White, like everyone else in the human race, privately held an unkind opinion or two. She was just able to keep it private, which is hard for anyone and nearly impossible when you’re a famous person and pretty much everything in your life has a way of eventually becoming public.

But Betty White never showed a side that was even a little bit dark, despite having prominent roles in two widely watched sitcoms (“The Mary Tyler Moore Show” and “Golden Girls”), popping up on hundreds of talk shows and quiz shows, hosting Saturday Night Live and generally blanketing American culture. And all that was just in her second life. She had an earlier public life that also played out on television in the 1950s, with popular shows and a high pop-culture profile.

One of the interesting things about all her roles, including Sue Ann Nevins on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Rose Nylund on Golden Girls, is that White was never the featured star.

We noticed her, because she was good. But so were the performers around her. She didn’t tower above the crowd. She blended in with it. She wasn’t larger than life. She was exactly life-size. What we knew about Betty White off-camera wasn’t that she hung out with famous people, but that she supported animal welfare causes. She was kind to puppies.

If you found yourself sitting next to Mary Tyler Moore on an airplane, it would be, like, OMG. If you found yourself sitting next to Betty White, you’d be no less impressed but far more likely to feel like you could have a regular-person conversation and not just gasp that you’re her biggest fan.

White was clearly aware of her place in the culture, even as she seemed genuinely amused that she had somehow waltzed right through the period in any performer’s life when he or she is supposed to be supplanted by the next generations and be mostly forgotten.

She seemed to enjoy where she had landed, somewhere between campy and cool, and why not? There aren’t many better places for a famous person to spend her 80s and 90s.

She also made it look easy to be Betty White, belying the work that went into that. She was good at her job, which involved making it look like she had rolled out of bed and became Sue Ann or Rose with no more effort than brewing her morning cup of coffee.

Now to be totally honest, without suggesting anything nefarious, there was probably an extent to which the rest of us didn’t want to see anything negative in Betty White. We have plenty of flawed famous people, so it’s great once in a while to have one we don’t have to worry about.

Nice job, Betty White.

Pixabay

This January there are more than four dozen writing contests for short fiction, novels, poetry, CNF, nonfiction, and short plays. Prizes range from $60,000 to publication. None charge entry fees.

Some of these contests have age and geographical restrictions, so read the instructions carefully.

If you want to get a jump on next month’s contests go to Free Contests. Most of these contests are offered annually, so even if the deadline is past, you can prepare for next year.

Good luck!

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Defenestration Lengthy Poem Contest. Genre: Lengthy poem (at least 3 pages). Prize: $300. Deadline: January 1, 2022.

The Reedsy Writing Prompts Contest. Genre: Short story. (See prompts) Prize: $50. Deadline: Every week in January.

Stacy Doris Memorial Poetry Award. Genre: Poem, 3–10 pages long, that demonstrates a “truly inventive spirit.” Prize: $500 and publication. Deadline: January 1, 2022.

Vermont Writers’ Prize. Restrictions: Open to residents of Vermont. Genres: Short story, poem, play or essay on the theme of Vermont — its people, places, history or values. Entries must be unpublished and fewer than 1,500 words long. Writers may submit only one entry per year. Prize: $1,250 and publication in Vermont Magazine. Deadline: January 1, 2022.

elements&flour//LOAFOFBREAD Contest. Genre: Translations in Poetry. You may submit three pieces maximum of translated works. Prize: $200. Deadline: January 1, 2022. (Extended)

Tony Hillerman Prize. Sponsored by St. Martin’s Press. Genre: Debut mystery novel set in Southwest. Prize: $10,000 advance against royalties and publication, Deadline: January 1, 2022.

Texas Institute of Letters Literary Awards. Restrictions: Entrants must have resided in Texas for at least 2 consecutive years, or have been born in Texas. Genre: Book (published). 11 different categories. Prize: $6,000. Deadline: January 3, 2022.

BOA Editions — Blessing the Boats Selections. Genre: Poetry by Women of Color. Prize: $5,000 + Publication. Deadline: January 5, 2022.

The Spectator. Genre: Vindalism. ‘You are invited to provide an example of pretentious wine-writing. Please email your entries of up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk. Prize: £30. Deadline: January 5, 2022.

Japan Center-Canon Essay Competition. The aim of the Japan Center Essay Competition is to promote awareness and understanding of Japan in the United States and to help young Americans broaden their international horizons. Genre: Essay. Contestants should write, in English, one or more aspects of Japan including art, culture, tradition, values, philosophy, history, society, politics, business, and technology in relation to their personal views, experiences, and/or future goals. (Contestants do not need to have any experience in visiting Japan or studying Japanese. Prize: Best Essay Award in the High School Division: 1st Place: $3,000 and a Canon camera, 2nd Place: $1,500 and a Canon camera, 3rd Place: $750 and a Canon camera; Best Essay Award in the College Division: $3,000 and a Canon camera; Uchida Memorial Award: $1,000 and a Canon camera; Merit Award: $200 (each) for up to five awards. Deadline: January 8, 2022.

The Prism Prize for Climate Literature. Restrictions: Open to USA and UK writers. Genre: Full-length book: fiction, poetry, and literary non-fiction writing in the emerging genre of climate literature. Prize: $1000 and publication. Deadline: January 8, 2022.

Bronx Recognizes Its Own (BRIO) provides direct support to individual Bronx artists who create literary, media, visual, and performing works of art. Prize: 25 BRIO grants of $3,000 each are awarded to Bronx artists. BRIO award winners complete a one-time public service activity. Deadline: January 10, 2022.

Northern California Book Awards. Restrictions: Books written by authors based in northern California and published for the first time the previous calendar year are eligible for nomination. Genre: Published book. Prize: $100. Deadline: January 10, 2022.

Bethesda Urban Partnership Essay Contest. Restrictions: Open to residents of Washington, DC and select counties in Maryland and Virginia. Genre: Essays. Length: 500 words maximum. Prize: $500 in adult category (age 18+) and $250 in high school category (ages 14–17). Deadline: January 10, 2022.

Bethesda Magazine Short Story Contest. Restrictions: Open to residents of Washington, DC and select counties in Maryland and Virginia. Genre: Short stories. Length: 4000 words maximum. Prize: $500 in adult category (age 18+) and $250 in high school category (ages 14–17). Deadline: January 10, 2022.

Novel Slices. Genre: Section of novel, 4,000–6,000 words. Prize: $175. Deadline: January 10, 2022.

The Spectator. Genre: Have I got news for you. ‘You are invited to retell a news story from the past year in sonnet form. Please email entries to lucy@spectator.co.uk Prize: £30. Deadline: January 12, 2022.

Author Mentor Match. Genre: Completed YA or MG manuscript. Prize: Mentorship by published author. Deadline: January 12–14, 2022.

John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Essay Contest is sponsored by the John F. Kennedy Library Foundation. Restrictions: The contest is open to United States high school students in grades nine through twelve attending public, private, parochial, or home schools; US students under the age of twenty enrolled in a high school correspondence/GED program; and US citizens attending schools overseas. Genre: Essay on an act of political courage by a US elected official who served during or after 1956. Prize: The first-place winner receives $10,000 comprised of a $5,000 cash award and $5,000 from John Hancock. The second-place winner receives $1,000. Up to five finalists receive $500 each. Deadline: January 14, 2022.

Apparition Lit. Genre: Flash fiction up to 1000 words on theme. Prize: $30. Deadline: January 14, 2022.* See themes.*

French-American Foundation Translation Prizes. Genre: Book. Best English translation of French in both fiction and non-fiction. Prize: $10,000. Deadline: January 14, 2022.

Encore Award. Restrictions: Open to British or Commonwealth citizens. Genre: Second published novel. Book must have been first published in the UK. Prize: 10,000 pounds. Deadline: January 14, 2022.

Andres Montoya Poetry Prize. Restrictions: Open to Latino authors who are residents of the US. Genre: First book of poetry published by a Latino author. Prize: $1,000 and publication by the University of Notre Dame Press. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Lilith Magazine Fiction Competition. Genre: Story of interest to Jewish women. Prize: $250. Deadline: January 15, 2022. (Deadline extended)

Defenstration Flash Suite Contest. Genre: Flash fiction. ““A series of at least three flash fiction works that correlate, and build to something greater. Recurring characters, extended motifs, harmonious subject matters, and/or sustained narrative are such correlations– but we encourage innovation and new ideas.” Prize: $75. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Moving Words Poetry Competition for Adults. Genre: Poems of 10 lines or less that will be displayed inside Arlington Transit buses. Prize: $250. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Janet Heidinger Kafka Prize. Restrictions: Open to women, US citizens only. Genre: Novel. All entries must be submitted by publishers who wish to have the work of their authors that were published in the year 2018 considered. No self-published works or works from vanity presses will be accepted. Prize: $7,500. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Walter Muir Whitehill Prize in Early American History. Genre: Essay on early American history (up to 1825), not previously published, with preference being given to New England subjects. Prize: $2,500. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

The Levis Reading Prize is sponsored by the Department of English and its MFA in Creative Writing program at Virginia Commonwealth University. Restrictions: The prize is given annually for the best first or second book of poetry published in the previous calendar year. Genre: Poetry. Prize: $5000. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Stephen A DiBiase Poetry Prize. Genre: Poetry. Prize: $500. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Arnold Adoff Poetry Awards. Genre: Poetry books for children and young adults. Novels in verse, memoirs in verse, collections of original poetry, and edited collections are all acceptable formats for the awards. Prize: $500. Deadline: January 15, 2022.

WE Poetry Awards 2022. Restrictions: Open to poets residing in India. Genre: Poetry. There are four awards: WE Kamala Das Poetry Award 2022, WE Eunice de Souza Poetry Awards 2022, WE Trailblazer Poet Teacher Award 2022, WE Gifted Poet Award (Emerging Voices) 2022. Prize: ? Deadline: January 15, 2022.

Novella-in-Flash Award. Genre: Flash fiction/Novella. 6000 to 18000 word limit — each flash should not be more than about 1000 words. Prize: £300 prize for the winner, two runner-up prizes of £100. Deadline: January 16, 2022.

Discoveries Prize. Restrictions: Open to female novelists of all ages and backgrounds, from across the UK and Ireland. Genre: Novel in progress. Prize: The winner will be offered representation by Curtis Brown Literary Agency and a cash prize of £5,000. Deadline: January 17, 2022.

Bethesda Poetry Contest. Genres: Poetry. Adult and high school student categories. Restrictions: Residents of Washington, D.C., Maryland and Virginia are eligible. Prizes: First place: $350, published on The Writer’s Center’s blog and magazine, and a free class and membership to The Writer’s Center. Second Place: $250. Third Place: $150. Honorable Mention: $75. Prize for high school students, $75. All winners will be published on the Bethesda Urban Partnership website and honored at a special event during the Local Writer’s Showcase. Deadline: January 17, 2022.

Elie Wiesel Prize in Ethics Essay Contest. Restrictions: Registered undergraduate full-time Juniors or Seniors at accredited four-year colleges or universities in the United States during the Fall 2015 Semester. Genre: Essay Topic: Articulate with clarity an ethical issue that you have encountered and analyze what it has taught you about ethics and yourself. 3,000 to 4,000 words. Prize: First Prize $5,000, 2nd Prize $2,500, 3rd Prize $1,500, two Honorable Mentions $500 each. Deadline: January 18, 2022.

Hindsight Climate Change Contest. Restrictions: Open to works of creative nonfiction by undergraduate students currently attending the University of Colorado, Boulder. Work made by non CU undergraduates can still be submitted as long as it was created while an undergrad. Genre: Creative nonfiction. Prize: First Place $600, Second Place $400. Deadline: January 18, 2022.

Poetry Society of Virginia — Student Contest. Restrictions: Open to students in Virginia, grades 3–12. Prize: $10 — $25. Deadline: January 19, 2022.

Washington State Book Awards. Restrictions: Open to Washington State writers. Genre: Published book, all genres. Prize: $500. Deadline: January 20, 2022.

Western Australian Premier’s Book Awards. Restrictions: Open to authors who either are citizens or permanent residents of Western Australia. Genre: Book published during the preceding calendar year in a variety of genres. Prize: Up to A$60,000. Deadline: January 21, 2022.

Zocalo Public Square Poetry Prize. Restrictions: Open to US poets only. Genre: Poetry that evokes a connection to place. Prize: $500. Deadline: January 22, 2022. Note: Winning author gives up all rights.

Scottish Book Trust: Monthly Competition. Restrictions: Open to four categories: adult writers, all-age Gaelic writers, young writers 5–11 and young writers 12–18. Genre: Short story based on prompts. (See site for prompt) Prize: Various items. Deadline: January 25, 2022.

NYSCA/NYFA Artist Fellowships are awarded in fifteen different disciplines over a three-year period. Prize: $7,000 cash awards are made to individual originating artists living and working in the state of New York for unrestricted use. These fellowships are not project grants but are intended to fund an artist’s vision or voice, regardless of the level of his or her artistic development. Deadline: January 26, 2022.

Afro-Solarpunk Futures. Restrictions: Open to black authors only. Genre: Speculative micro-fiction. Length: 250 words max. Prize: $25. Deadline: January 27, 2022.

Technology Addiction Awareness Scholarship. Restrictions: Open to a high school freshman, sophomore, junior, or senior or a current or entering college or graduate school student of any level. Home schooled students are also eligible. There is no age limit. You must also be a U.S. citizen or legal resident. Genre: 500- to 1,000-word essay about technology addiction. Prize: $1000 scholarship. Deadline: January 30, 2022.

The Hillman Prize for Journalism. Genre: Journalism. “Since 1950, the Sidney Hillman Foundation has honored journalists, writers and public figures that pursue investigative journalism and public policy in service of the common good.” Prize: $5,000. Deadline: January 30, 2022.

The 2022 Stratford Literary Festival/Salariya Books Children’s Picture Book Competition. Restrictions: Open to residents of the UK and Ireland. Writers must be unpublished by a mainstream publisher. Genre: Children’s picture book, unpublished. Prize: First prize: £1000. Deadline: January 30, 2022.

Papatango New Writing Prize. Restrictions: Open to anyone resident in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland. Genre: Script of roughly 25–50 pages. Prize: £7000. Their scripts will be produced as audio plays and tour the UK in free listening stations. The scripts will also be published digitally by Nick Hern Books. Deadline: January 30, 2022.

William Saroyan Writing Contest. Restrictions: Open to students in 1st grade through college. Genre: Short story, 2 pages. Prize: $50 — $100. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

The John Byrne Award. Restrictions: Open to residents of Scotland. Genre: A piece of creative work on a chosen theme or value (written work must be no more than 15,000 words in length). Prize: £7500. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Cheshire Prize for Literature. Restrictions: The writer must have been born, live or have lived, study or have studied, work or have worked, in Cheshire, UK. Age ranges from 4 to adult. Genre: Short story, piece of poetry, script or children’s literature piece (this can be a script, story or poem, for children ages seven to 14) on the theme of Sustainability. Prize: Cash prizes. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Jerry Jazz Musician Fiction Contest. “The Jerry Jazz Musician reader has interests in music, social history, literature, politics, art, film and theater, particularly that of the counter-culture of mid-twentieth century America.” Genre: previously unpublished work of short fiction. Prize: $100. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Helen and Kurt Wolff Translator’s Prize. The annual Helen and Kurt Wolff Translator’s Prize is awarded each spring to honor an outstanding literary translation from German into English published in the USA the previous year. Genre: Published fiction or non-fiction, may include: novels, novellas, short stories, plays, poetry, biographies, essays and correspondence. Prize: $10,000. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

The Lumiere Review Writing Contest. Genre: Poetry, prose. Prize: $100. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

The Danuta Gleed Literary Award for best first collection of short fiction in the English language was initiated by John Gleed in honour of his late wife to promote and celebrate the genre of short fiction, which she loved. Restrictions: Canadian residents only. Prize: A $10,000 prize will be awarded for the best first collection of published short fiction in the English language. Two finalist will also be awarded $500 each. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Michael E. DeBakey Medical Student Poetry Awards. Restrictions: Only undergraduates currently enrolled in accredited United States medical schools are eligible. Genre: Poetry. Prize: $1,000 top prize. Deadline: January 31, 2022. Note: Winners do not retain copyright.

Caine Prize for African Writing. Restrictions: Open to writers born in Africa, or nationals of an African country, or with a parent who is African by birth or nationality, Genre: Short fiction (published). Prize: £10,000. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Storytwigs. Genre: Microfiction up to 100 words. Prize: 1st Place: $100; 2nd Place: $25; 3rd Place: $20; 4th Place: $15; 5th Place: $10. Deadline: January 31, 2022. See prompt.

Victor Howes Prize in Poetry. Restrictions: Undergraduate English majors currently enrolled at a New England college (2-year or 4-year). Genre: Poetry. Prize: $1000. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Snarl Prose & Poetry Contests. Restrictions: Snarl seeks work from creators of marginalized identities. Genre: Prose and poetry. Prize: $300 and publication. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

James Welch Prize for Indigenous Poets. Restrictions: The prize is open to new, emerging, and established poets who are community-recognized members of tribal nations within the United States and its trust territories (including American Indians, Alaska Natives, Native Hawaiians, Chamorros, and American Samoans). Only poets who have not published more than one book-length collection are eligible; however, previous publication is not a requirement. Eligible contestants must be community-recognized members of their tribal nation. Formal tribal enrollment is not the only way of acknowledging belonging, and this prize aims to recognize all Native writers who are in community. Previous first place winners of this prize are not eligible, but previous finalists are welcome to submit work. Prize: $1000. Deadline: January 31, 2022.

Like this article?* For more articles about the publishing world, useful tips on how to get an agent, agents who are looking for clients, how to market and promote your work, building your online platform, how to get reviews, self-publishing, as well as publishers accepting manuscripts directly from writers (no agent required) visit Publishing and Other Forms of Insanity.*

https://medium.com/@catherinevictoriakapphahn?source=post_page-----3a5cdfdf6535-----------------------------------

Catherine Kapphahn

https://medium.com/invisible-the-fault-lines-of-motherhood-3a5cdfdf6535?source=post_page-----3a5cdfdf6535-----------------------------------

Dec 22, 2021·8 min read

We take a few steps from our beds to remote teaching and remote learning, to four desks in three rooms. In our Queens, New York City apartment, we endure lock down, our entry into the pandemic. I hear eight-year old giggling and then I tell him to get off YouTube for the millionth time. I want to slam the lid shut. But he’s supposed to be in school; he needs it to connect with…

https://ryanfan.medium.com/?source=post_page-----1f6329f1f2ff-----------------------------------

Ryan Fan

https://index.medium.com/i-had-perfect-attendance-at-work-and-have-gained-nothing-for-it-1f6329f1f2ff?source=post_page-----1f6329f1f2ff-----------------------------------

Dec 24, 2021·6 min read

Photo: krakenimages/Unsplash

Before yesterday, I had almost perfect attendance at work in my two and a half years of teaching. But I finally called out to get a COVID test after my fiancee tested positive for COVID.

Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash

Apparently, debt cancellation isn’t the most popular topic in Christianity.

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ScottCDunn

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/the-very-first-sermon-christ-gave-taught-us-about-the-jubilee-c9c4f95b8ab3?source=post_page-----c9c4f95b8ab3-----------------------------------

Dec 25, 2021·5 min read

It’s early Christmas morning as I write this. I just could not sleep with this story dancing around in my head. The sugarplums are really upset at being pushed aside. I’m thinking about why we celebrate the birth of a man who preached…

Jessie Waddell

Dec 27, 2021

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5

min read

Image by Nickola_Che on Shutterstock

As I write this article, it’s noon on Monday 27th of December. It’s the eve of my 31st birthday, and I’m exhausted, but my brain won’t stop running miles. I feel grateful this year because I have this outlet. When my brain gets too busy, I can write, process and make sense of the chaos. Before I started writing, it was…

https://barackobama.medium.com/?source=post_page-----c54927e7c7cc-----------------------------------

Barack Obama

https://barackobama.medium.com/my-statement-on-the-passing-of-archbishop-desmond-tutu-c54927e7c7cc?source=post_page-----c54927e7c7cc-----------------------------------

·Dec 26, 2021

Photo by Pete Souza

Archbishop Desmond Tutu was a mentor, a friend, and a moral compass for me and so many others. A universal spirit, Archbishop Tutu was grounded in the struggle for liberation and justice in his own country, but also concerned with injustice everywhere. He never lost his impish sense of humor and willingness to find humanity in his adversaries, and Michelle and I will miss him dearly.

By Scott Dunn

What we do with this holiday is dependent on the choices we make.

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/?source=post_page-----814fbf01eaa8-----------------------------------

ScottCDunn

https://scottcdunn.medium.com/we-create-the-magic-of-christmas-814fbf01eaa8?source=post_page-----814fbf01eaa8-----------------------------------

Dec 24, 2021·4 min read

I can remember Christmas in childhood. My mom got these incandescent Christmas lights that would just randomly blink. I loved how those clear glass lights would blink in a way that I could never predict. They mesmerized me. I also loved the way the lights cast multicolored shadows onto the walls…

https://nicklicata.medium.com/?source=post_page-----c81db7687050-----------------------------------

Nick Licata

https://nicklicata.medium.com/on-the-matter-of-black-lives-c81db7687050?source=post_page-----c81db7687050-----------------------------------

Dec 24·5 min read

Professor Jelani Cobb, a staff writer for the New Yorker

In the last 12 months, Professor Jelani Cobb, a staff writer for the New Yorker, has authored three groundbreaking books on race in America. The Matter of Black Lives: Writing from The New Yorker, which he co-authored with David Remnick, came out this fall. It collects many of the most thoughtful writers portraying Black life in America over the last century.

Rosie Alderson, PhD

Dec 22

·

5

min read

Photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash

A couple of winters ago, I travelled to the ski resort of Levi, in Finland. Nestled in the arctic circle, the landscape is awe-inspiring— great swathes of white, punctuated only by majestic snow-laden trees and small, charming settlements populated with cosy wooden buildings.

https://carvellwallace.medium.com/?source=post_page-----6f8a4de24c91-----------------------------------

Carvell Wallace

https://level.medium.com/christmas-lol-6f8a4de24c91?source=post_page-----6f8a4de24c91-----------------------------------

6 days ago·6 min read

We approach the time of year when we have all been tricked into linking together the buying of things with the genuine expression of love and there seems to be no way out of it. I (barely) survived a giant family fight with one of my teenagers this week — set in motion by me announcing that due to various logistical factors like global pandemic and a vast unnameable existential fatigue, her mother and I have decided not to do a huge many-gifts-per-child…

https://clivethompson.medium.com/?source=post_page-----d64291cea550-----------------------------------

Clive Thompson

https://marker.medium.com/who-was-first-with-a-big-idea-its-often-hard-to-know-d64291cea550?source=post_page-----d64291cea550-----------------------------------

5 days ago·6 min read

Guglielmo Marconi invented radio in the 1890s — but so did Nikola Tesla and several others. (Photo by Nicolas Buffler)

I recently wrote about the history of “pinch and zoom” — and how Apple didn’t really invent it. Apple executives love to claim they did; Steve Jobs even stood on stage and boasted “boy, have we patented it!”

https://ericweiner.medium.com/?source=post_page-----32fd0a4fd1ca-----------------------------------

Eric Weiner

https://forge.medium.com/the-art-of-seeing-32fd0a4fd1ca?source=post_page-----32fd0a4fd1ca-----------------------------------

Dec 20·5 min read

Photo by Harry Quan on Unsplash

I thought my vision was pretty good. Not quite 20–20, but close. Then I read Thoreau.

Yes, *that *Thoreau. Forget what you may have read by or about the “hermit Concord.” He is misunderstood. His experiment on Walden Pond was about seeing. All the rest — the solitude, the simplicity — were means to this end.

I would like to dismiss 2021 as a terrible, no-good, very bad year, a year to be sept away and forgotten as quickly as possible. After all, it was a year that began with the insurrection and was quickly followed by my ALS diagnosis. Dire on both the public and private fronts. Such a year can’t possibly have been anything other than bad. And yet — it was also the year that I not only had a new book published, I also sold two new books (on the same day!) to come out in 2022. More importantly, it was a year in which I connected in a deeply heartfelt way with so many friends, old and new, near and far. So, as is so often the case with not only years, but life experiences in general, 2021 was a mixed bag.

Still, I feel a need for a cleansing ritual as 2021 comes to a close, an acknowledgment that some things must be cleared away to make way for what comes next. I have a friend and a sister both of whom are avid sweepers. They take their brooms to the floor with such determination and ferocity it is almost scary — you would not want to be a crumb in their paths. I would trust both of them to sweep out the toxins of 2021 and prepare a clean slate for us going forward. I’ll let you know if they rent out their services.

When my husband and I moved, sixteen years ago, to the house where we currently live, neighbors eyed us warily then came over to check us out. They were amazingly direct about hoping we were good people, because the residents who preceded us were definitely not. Those people had harassed the African American kid across the street. They had amassed piles of glass-laden junk that they expected Goodwill to cart away. They irked the postwoman, the utility person, the telephone guy. Everyone had a story of malfeasance. They were all relieved this extended family had moved out.

Several people suggested a saging ceremony was in order, and I, as a lover of ritual, thought *why not. *So we obtained some sage and burned it in a short ceremony in which we said some words about hoping to made the atmosphere of the property more positive and loving. It seems to have worked, as all traces of the former residents’ bad juju seem to have disappeared, and our years here have been happy, including very enjoyable and mutually helpful relationships with our neighbors.

Sweeping and saging are both great rituals to take us over the threshold into 2022. It is, of course, a completely arbitrary crossing, but because we, as human beings, are meaning makers, it doesn’t feel that way, much as we (I) often try to tell ourselves that the celebration of a new year is manufactured. Why do we do this crazy celebrating with drunkenness and resolutions we know we won’t make good on? Because, I think, a new year gives hope a new platform. The things we hope and wish for seem to have a greater likelihood of coming to pass in the shiny new year than they did in the nasty old one.

When I met my now-husband, he had been reading the Tao Te Ching, and he wanted to warn me about the dangers of hope (the hope of being published was then in our sightlines). The Tao Te Ching warns us against the danger and fallacy of hope. “Hope is as hollow as fear,” says the Stephen Mitchell translation. Or, as my husband put it, “Hope is the flip side of despair.” The Tao eschews hope because of its relationship to selfhood which is reputed to be the cause of human suffering. To hope sets us up for disappointment.

After many years of thinking about this, and weighing the pros and cons of hope, I would humbly take issue with this Taoist point of view. I think most human beings need hope to carry on through life’s plentiful challenges. We need to feel that our lives, and the world in general, might improve. Without hope the motivation for doing much, beyond going to work, would quickly dissipate. Why exercise if you don’t hope to improve your health. Why do volunteer work if you don’t hope that someone will benefit. Hope has been a powerful force in the accomplishments of so many great liberation movements. Women and blacks would not have achieved the right to vote were it not for some people with very strong hope. People dared to hope, as Barack Obama knew. We need to hope without getting attached to specific outcomes, but we can’t give up on the entire idea of hope, which is endlessly renewable.

January is named for the Roman god Janus, guardian of doorways and transitions, who is depicted with two faces, one looking forward and one looking back. It’s almost impossible not to do both at this time of year, reflecting back to sweep out the horrors of 2021, and looking ahead with hope for better things in 2022.

As I try to expunge the bad juju of the insurrection and my diagnosis, I am keenly involved in looking ahead with hope and optimism: I’m hoping to be alive and mobile when my books come out in August and September, I’m hoping to get to Denver to see my grandniece after she is born in February, I am hoping to hold onto my manual dexterity for the continued writing of fiction and this blog, I am hoping Congress passes the voting rights bills, I am hoping to continue communicating with as many friends as possible. And finally, I am hoping I can make peace with whatever of these hopes don’t materialize.

I wish you all a smooth transition as you sweep and sage and make the most of hope.

Here’s my annual list of favorite books, music, and movies. Art always sustains and nourishes the soul. But for me, music and storytelling felt especially urgent during this pandemic year — a way to connect even when we were cooped up.

Since these are works I have actually listened to, watched, or read, I’m sure I’ve missed some worthy stuff. So if you have your own recommendations to share, I’ll add them to the stack of books and movies I hope to catch up on over the holidays!

Favorite Books of 2021:

• Matrix — Lauren Groff

• How the Word Is Passed — Clint Smith

• The Final Revival of Opal & Nev — Dawnie Walton

• The Lincoln Highway — Amor Towles

• Invisible Child: Poverty, Survival & Hope in an American City — Andrea Elliott

• Harlem Shuffle — Colson Whitehead

• Cloud Cuckoo Land — Anthony Doerr

• These Precious Days — Ann Patchett

• Crying in H Mart — Michelle Zauner

• Aftershocks — Nadia Owusu

• Crossroads — Jonathan Franzen

• The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois — Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

• Beautiful Country — Qian Julie Wang

And here’s a reminder of books I recommended earlier this year:

• At Night All Blood Is Black — David Diop

• Land of Big Numbers — Te-Ping Chen

• Empire of Pain — Patrick Radden Keefe

• Project Hail Mary — Andy Weir

• When We Cease to Understand the World — Benjamín Labatut

• Under a White Sky: The Nature of the Future — Elizabeth Kolbert

• Things We Lost to the Water — Eric Nguyen

• Leave The World Behind — Rumaan Alam

• Klara and the Sun — Kazuo Ishiguro

• The Sweetness of Water — Nathan Harris

• Intimacies — Katie Kitamura

Favorite Movies of 2021:

• Drive My Car

• Summer of Soul

• West Side Story

• The Power of the Dog

• Pig

• Passing

• The Card Counter

• Judas and the Black Messiah

• The Worst Person in the World

• Old Henry

• The Last Duel

• The Tragedy of Macbeth

• C’mon C’mon

• Quo Vadis, Aida?

Favorite Music of 2021:​​

• The Only Heartbreaker — Mitski

• I Don’t Live Here Anymore — The War On Drugs ft. Lucius

• Tala Tannam — Mdou Moctar

• Magnolia Blues — Adia Victoria

• Witchoo — Durand Jones & The Indications & Aaron Frazer

• Formwela 10 — Esperanza Spalding

• Gold Chains — Genesis Owusu

• Broken Horses — Brandi Carlile

• Woman — Little Simz ft. Cleo Sol

• Pepas — Farruko

• Go Down Deh — Spice ft. Sean Paul & Shaggy

• Freedom — Jon Batiste

• It’s Way with Me — Wye Oak

• Nobody- Nas ft. Ms. Lauryn Hill

• Nightflyer — Allison Russell

• Montero (Call Me By Your Name) — Lil Nas X

• Patria y Vida — Yotuel, Gente de Zona, Descemer Bueno, Maykel Osorbo, el Funky

• Notice — Tammy Lakkis

• Armash — Teddy Afro

• Write a List of Things To Look Forward To -Courtney Barnett

• Volví — Aventura & Bad Bunny

• Headshots (4r Da Locals) — Isaiah Rashad

• Boomerang — Yebba

• In My Blood — MO3 & Morray

• Ya — YEИDRY

• Rumors — Lizzo ft. Cardi B

• Walking at a Downtown Pace — Parquet Courts

And here’s a reminder of the songs I had on my summer playlist:

We did do a few small things. My main effort was to make a wreath; we didn’t have any pines at the old farmhouse property, so we wandered a nearby state forest to cut some inconspicuous branches. I tied them to a wreath form, wrapped it with a velvet bow, and put it on our front door. We didn’t do gifts for each other, and only bought a few for close family. We saw people separately, for short visits, a few days before Christmas. Christmas Day we spent alone. I was still reeling from my first miscarriage and we struggled to find something on television that wasn’t a celebration of kids or family. I think we gave up, and went to bed early.

This year I realize how much I missed all of it — even the things I used to gripe about, like waiting in line at a crowded co-op to buy apples or staying up until midnight to bake pies. We do things for holidays that take more effort and time than we’d normally consider reasonable — elaborate meals, decorations that get unpacked and hung for only a few weeks, gifts painstakingly wrapped and ribbon-ed. I’ve come to realize that we do it because we secretly love these things, but we need an excuse to do them. We need a holiday to inspire us to make the effort that special things require.

This year I am doing more. While there aren’t any big gatherings in our future, I’ve revived some of the old traditions. I bought and mailed cards — more than I’ve ever sent before. We got presents for each other. I ordered a gingerbread house kit in the mail. And, for the first time, we got a tree.

We’ve never had a tree before, not even a fake one. We tried once years ago with a little potted one, but our then-spry cats refused to leave it alone and we had to lock it away in a guest bedroom.

This year we walked across the brook and into a meadow with a hacksaw, and worked together to cut a fresh tree from our property. It’s a sizable pine — taller than me, and wide with dense branches. We dragged it back up through the big field and put it in the flatbed. “Do you think the animals will mess with it?” I said. “Maybe,” Cody said. “But let’s try anyway.”

So the tree sits in the living room now. Miraculously, the animals leave it alone. Our ornaments are still all in storage, but I did buy lights. I went traditional and got candy colored ones — like we had on the tree when I was a kid. The other night I walked Gracie down by the lake and looked up to see them glowing through our living room windows. It looked like any other year, at Christmas.

I dropped most of my cards in the mail last week, and a few more this week. Coming back from the mailbox the other day, I spied a large box at the end of the driveway. “Are you expecting anything?” I asked — we’re careful not to ruin the surprise of presents ordered by mail.

“My parents said they were sending something,” Cody said. “But it’s not a Christmas present. They said we should open it now.”

Inside were two boxes of dozens of Christmas ornaments, from their own collection. “They’re for our tree. So we can decorate it this year.”

So now our tree sits in the living room, glowing with its colorful fairy lights, flush with borrowed ornaments from so many past Christmases. I turn the lights on every day in the morning, and off at night. As I work at my desk throughout the day, I look over at it, this unmistakable symbol of winter, of Christmas, of the end of the year.

It was a special gift, made that way through thought, and care, and effort. Like all the best holiday traditions.