2020 has been, by most counts, hot trash. But, it's also the year that upped my submission game. I set a goal of 100 rejections--I have 128 rejections and 6 publications to show for 2020 & I'm damn proud of all of it.

2020 was a spectacular literary year for me. On top of getting published a few times, I inhabited many different and wonderful worlds. A welcomed distraction to the current reality. I'm not going to list out all 54 books that I read, but you're welcome to check out my Goodreads page if you're interested. But I am going to share my top seven reads (in no particular order) of the year.

On November 14th, I turn 29. And I can think of no better way to celebrate than by registering Democrats in the state of Georgia in attempts to win the two run-off senate races.

I was in St. Petersburg for three days in 2013. Three days specifically because it's the longest we could stay in the country without requiring a tourist's visa, so long as we entered the country via boat. We sailed overnight from Helsinki to St. Petersburg on one of the strangest cruise liners and to this day, it's the only cruise experience I've ever had. This post is not about that cruise but also that cruise deserves some space because it is one of the most memorable, weird travel moments of my life.

In 2013, my brother, parents, and I went on a trip to celebrate our respective graduations--mine from undergrad and my brother from high school. As any other family trip, the itinerary was stacked. Very few open moments to sit and people watch or drink at a café or bar, as is the Kolick family way. If an international plane ticket was purchased, we would see as much as humanly possible in the time allotted. Helsinki was our hub--where the trip started and ended.

2020 has been a year--and it's only APRIL. I've seen many posts, articles, tweets, insta-stories start this way and I'm convinced that it still isn't a cliche. It feels especially heavy after the last three years that have felt like six years. There is little I can do about what's happening in the world, other than stay at home (please stay the fuck at home) and donate to organizations trying to get food, shelter, and protective gear to those in need. And so I've been trying to affect change to my world and to the worlds of people I care for deeply.

It's hard for me not to be romantic about Edinburgh, and Scotland in general. Part of me wants to say I feel most creative when I'm there, but I think that has more to do with me spending a focused year there writing and producing than me actually being more creative in a specific place. Since moving back to Seattle, I've written some of my best work. But in each story, a piece of Scotland was woven into the sentences.

This week's episode of Last Week Tonight couldn't have been more poignant for me. It was about bias in medicine and how women and people of color are often not believed about their symptoms or trusted with proper methods of treatment.

This past weekend, I attended AWP for the first time. AWP (Association of Writers & Writers Programs) is an annual conference that takes place in the US, changing cities each year. It's a place for writers to converge and talk about the characters in their head without anyone questioning their mental status. Moreover, there are hundreds of panels, readings, discussions, and exhibition booths to attend and learn new things.

We took a train from Kyoto to Kinosaki that dropped us off at the edge of town. The air was thick with mountain clouds and impending rains and the streets were quiet. Through the center of town cuts a quiet river filled with koi. They seemed excited as more people arrived and would gather under bridges and near the banks in hopes that people would throw food down to them.

While Tokyo has something for everyone, Kyoto was more my speed. I could've spent weeks browsing pottery shops, visiting some of their hundreds of temples, and eating my way through Nishiki Market and been a happy lady.

If I'm being honest, I was nervous about Tokyo. I don't like grocery shopping during peak hours because it feels like I have no space to process what's going on around me. As someone who's never lived in a city with over a million people, the thought of being in one that's 20 million strong was daunting. I was nervous about not knowing cultural traditions (and things that might be considered disrespectful). I was concerned about hitting a point of sensory overload in markets and neighborhoods that had countless bright signs in a language I can't read in a city I'd never been to before.

Life has changed a lot in the last few weeks. We moved from Edinburgh back to Seattle and last week I started my master’s program at University of Glasgow as part of their distance learning program. And as I embrace these changes, I’ve also spent a fair bit of time reflecting.

There's a phenomenon amongst readers where women will read a variety of authors but men typically only read other men. If you look in the New York Times By The Book column, male authors rarely cite female authors as influencers while female authors tend to have a more varied list of inspiring artists.

Each summer the University of New Orleans meets in Cork, Ireland for their Writer's Workshop, hosted at University College Cork. Luckily for me, the program is open to writers outside of the program as well. Throughout my time there, I participated in two writing workshops, one fiction and one non-fiction. Both were led by published authors who also happen to be wonderful teachers. For weeks, my peers and I immersed ourselves in each others work, learning new craft techniques, asking questions, pushing each other to create better work.

Belfast was a wonderful little surprise. Coming from Cork, I naively thought that the architecture might be similar--that there would be old buildings nestled together oscillating between bright and pastel exteriors. But between WWII and the troubles of the IRA, the city has essentially been rebuilt over the past several decades. It resembled a city closer to Dublin--more industrial, modern. The city sprawled further than I thought it would but walking more than thirty minutes from the city-center would likely put you in a residential neighborhood.