Every May 1, I give myself permission to start over—without pretending I haven’t been here before. Thirteen years ago today, I made a resolution to write more stories, and I was going to begin with the image in my head: a man in a fedora, knocking on a door, and bullets ripping through the wood. That idea became my first published novel, Wading Into War. Every May, I come back to that decision and take stock of the work. I call it my Writer’s New Year’s Day. Some years are good. Others aren’t. But on May 1, I reflect, reset if necessary, and keep going. In past years, I laid…