Writing in the new year

If you’re like most writers I know, you’d like to use the new year to reassess your writing dreams. You may have goals

• For what you’d like to produce (finish a rough draft, complete X number of short stories, prepare a novel for submission to agents or editors),

• For how you structure your time (write X hours a day, write Y hours a week, write during the time it takes you to finish your first cup of coffee),

• For publication (query X number of agents or editors, submit your short stories to Y number of literary journals, network at a conference for writers, agents, and editors), or

• For ancillary things related to your writing (find a new place for you to write, incentivize your kids to occupy themselves while you write, become friends with other writers).

Whatever your aim is, it’s important to determine how much structure it should have. Consider this in terms of practicality: what method is most likely to help you in your writing? Your answer will take into consideration both the nature of your dream (write more, achieve publication, etc.) and your knowledge of how well you work under each method.

New Year’s resolutions are always popular, but they have some pitfalls. Avoid always/never language—“I’ll write every evening,” “I’ll stop hitting the snooze button and missing my morning writing sessions”—because they set us up for failure; one afternoon emergency or one smack of the alarm, and you haven’t kept your resolution, no matter if it happens on January 2 or in mid-July. It’s also a good idea to avoid making idealistic resolutions that emphasize the perfect life you’d love to have while ignoring your real-world needs—more sleep, time to mentally recharge, or the space to develop new ideas for your writing.

Some people, writers among them, are deciding not on a new year’s resolution but on a word of the year. A big reason for the declining popularity of the New Year’s resolution is its frequent emphasis on instant change and its tendency to overlook gratitude and contentment in favor of ambition. If this speaks to you (and if you’ve decided not to set a resolution for 2018), consider choosing a word that describes what you want your journey as a writer to look like this year.

Another framework in which to consider your aims is, of course, goals. Remember, a goal should be specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-bound. Ideally, a goal will not discourage you when you’ve fleshed out these details. If it does, ask yourself, “What part of this makes me doubt my ability to meet this goal or makes me not want to try in the first place?” That’s the part that needs tweaking. It’s important to stretch yourself, not overwhelm yourself or, on the other hand, set your sights so low that you’ll end up practically where you are now.

Some people thrive under the structure of well-thought-out goals, while others find this structure to be stifling. Western culture may denigrate this latter group, but in many cases, even a well-structured goal can pale in comparison to developing a lifelong practice. George Leonard’s book Mastery makes a strong case for this. In it, Leonard describes how the way of the master avoids the hacker’s laziness and lack of discipline, the obsessive’s inevitable burnout, and the dabbler’s lack of focus. Instead, the path Leonard advocates demands patience and consistent practice in an activity that is intrinsically rewarding. This encourages practitioners to integrate their path into their lives instead of setting up an adversarial relationship between their dreams and where they are now.

Whichever one—or combination—you choose, I wish you success and perseverance in the new year. A dream worthy of being aspired to is never easy to reach, but the work it requires should be justified by the joy that that work brings.