Extra! Extra! Read all about it.

Years ago, a small piece of writing of mine was judged good enough to appear in the largest daily newspaper in Canada’s national capital.

As a struggling young writer seeking to improve, a writer-friend of mine had suggested months earlier that the best way to get better would be to just write for the sake of writing.

About anything.

So I did, writing the story of the Winter of 2003 when a collection of neighbours and friends in my hometown spent most of the season skating away their afternoons at the south end of our dead end street, on a frozen pond that had, up until then, been mostly ignored and forgotten.

The story turned into much more than I ever expected.

At more than 2,200 words, On Frozen Pond chronicled the rise and fall of the pond hockey season, from the first flooding of the frozen surface in late December, to the last skate on a slushy afternoon in March.

When I was done, the same writer-friend urged me to submit the story to the Ottawa Citizen, on the off chance it could be published in the weekend news-magazine section.

I did, and much to my surprise, it was.

And here is the kicker, they paid me for it.

Just a shade over $800.

With the money, Hot Wife and I took an unexpected winter vacation to Cuba, landing on an $1,100 discount deal that put us out of pocket for only the $300 difference, thanks to my earnings.

It should have been the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

For one thing, seeing my by-line, under my title, above my writing, in a major Canadian daily, should have been enough to build in me the confidence that I had, up until then, been lacking.

It should have motivated me, as well.

To keep writing.

To keep earning.

To keep getting better.

And to keep getting published.

It did none of the above.

Six years it has been, since last I saw my name in print. Six years during which I have failed to capitalize on the rush I got from having a full newspaper page dedicated to a story born between my own ears, or as I wrote in On Frozen Pond, in the arena of my mind.

The nagging self-doubt reappeared rather quickly, from an inner voice that kept repeating to me that while On Frozen Pond was indeed published, it was probably less due to the fact that I am a talented writer and more because I got lucky.

Just another one-hit wonder.

That, and I was lazy too.

I never did much to fight my own self-doubt, nor did I bother to bring myself back to the keyboard to write with a purpose either, perhaps thinking that it would be impossible to put together a piece of writing that could ever read any better than my first.

What a cop out.

And an astounding waste of time too.

I will say no more about it than that, for dwelling on missed opportunities does me no good now.

Instead, as we make the turn into 2011, I have settled on a New Year’s resolution that relates directly to my lack of action over the past six years.

My plan for the next 12 months is to get published again.

To see my name in print.

To write so compellingly that others will be moved to share my musings with a wider audience. And perhaps to even pay me for it too.

I am prepared to put in the work.

And to reap the rewards.

The financial rewards, for sure. But more importantly, just the plain satisfaction of knowing that I put in an honest effort to get my name and my writing out there.

I have already started, and had to look no further than Confessions of a Blogophobe for inspiration.

There is some quality writing here, if I may say so myself.

And as I skimmed through my archives, I settled on a post I wrote a few years ago, resurrected it, reworked it and have now submitted it for print.

It may quite possibly amount to nothing, but it could also turn into another On Frozen Pond, another piece for my portfolio, another confidence-building step in the ongoing evolution of Chubbs.

At least I hope so.

And if not, my 2011 pledge is to keep working at it all year until it finally happens.

Because it will.

And because I want it.