It’s that time of the year when people regret all the food they ate between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve and decide they need to go to gym to lose the extra pounds—only to quit by Valentine’s Day (another reason V-Day is the worst holiday ever!)

All that to say everyone makes resolutions for the coming year (including the Children of the Wells writers and their characters), and I’m no different. My list would include stuff like:

-Finish writing Hope’s War.
-Read the 20 or so books sitting on my bedpost (at least).
-Publish at least one new book.
-Pay off more of my student loans.
-Start grad school, if possible.

But there’s something I’ve thought about doing around this time for several years. Sometimes I do a bit of it, but not enough. In fact, it weighed so heavily on me during the Christmas season it kept me awake one night (thanks, God). 😛 What is that?

Downsizing.

Now, I’m not a pack rat who needs to go on Hoarders (though I know people who should). However, I do tend to hang onto stuff that has sentimental value and/or I think I’ll be able to use later. I have sizable DVD/Blu-ray, book, and video game collections, and while I have trimmed those down a bit (they could stand a little more), what I specifically need streamlined is my toys.

Yes, toys.

As a kid, I collected several series of playthings, some of which are probably genuine collectors’ items (Transformers, Star Trek, etc.), but many were only popular at the time (like Z-Bots and Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad). I have most of these stashed in several trunks. I don’t keep them because I play with them, obviously, so the toys’ purposes are defeated. I thought at one point I might share them with my own kids, but I don’t know if or when that will happen. So, at the moment, they just take up space that should be freed up. I’m a storyteller now, hence why my focus is more on books and movies, and not a kid or a toy collector. I haven’t bought a toy in years.

Unfortunately, I’m like Andy from the Toy Story films. I don’t want my toys—most of which I slaved to keep in good condition—to go to just anybody. I want to give them good homes; I want them to go to people who will cherish them the same way I did; people like a collector or an appreciative kid. (Wow! That was an excessive use of semicolons!) I know, it sounds weird. It sounds like I’m talking about a pet I can’t keep. These are just toy—hunks of sculpted plastic (and a sometimes metal). They’re not alive. Well, technically they’re not. But when I was a kid, with my wild imagination, I made them come to life. They were “friends” I had adventures with; characters in whatever goofy stories I would cook up on the spot (that might partially explain my zany mind). They were the avatars of my brainchildren. (Though some I keep because of the people who gave them to me, like deceased grandparents).

That’s the thing, though: What I cherish most are the memories those playthings gave me. It isn’t necessarily the things themselves. But barring a traumatic brain injury, I’ll never lose those memories. If they gave me this much joy, they can do the same for new owners.

I just want to make sure I find the right ones, is all. 😛

(No wonder the Toy Story films appeal to me on many levels).

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