first person

Writers and other creative people struggle with various aspects of the process, but as I watch them interact online and in my real world, I find that many flounder because they fail to master the most important skill: Showing up.

I’ve had this problem, including periods when I didn’t write at all, even though I claimed to want to. In all the years I wanted to make writer friends and build my little community, there were plenty of meetups I missed, conferences I skipped, opportunities blown. I had my excuses, but what mattered is that I didn’t show up.

Last year, I showed up – on my weekly Zoom sessions with my writer friends, at Jane Friedman’s workshop and AI talk, at the picnic table where a bunch of writers gathered to eat and chat, at Balticon where I met a few other writers and invited one to join the networking group, and at the monthly networking meetings. That sounds like a lot of steps, but all I did was say yes.

I almost bailed on every one of those choices, but I’m glad I stayed at the picnic table to pass around the yellow pad. A small thing, passing around a yellow pad, but it made a big difference in my world.

This year, I commit to saying yes more often. I say yes to making incremental progress on my WIP, to sharing info with my writer friends, to going places where other writers hang out, to talking about writing and creativity, and putting myself and my work out into the world. I commit to saying yes to improving my craft, by reading good craft advice, rewriting even when it’s a struggle, and asking for critiques.

The ride will not be perfect and I don’t know what I’ll find at the end, but I say yes to the possibility that I can be more. Life will get in the way, but I say yes to getting back on track as quickly as possible. I say yes to changing what doesn’t work for me so I can focus on what’s important to my creative health and fulfillment.

If you’re reading this, chances are that you are already showing up. Is there something else you’d like to accomplish? Are you holding back from showing up someplace new?

What are you saying yes to this year? Where will you show up?

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A few weeks ago, I gave myself a report card for my 2025 writing year, which means it’s time for new goals for 2026. I don’t always hit every goal, but posting them publicly keeps me accountable. Saying it out loud ensures that I do something to move the ball forward, even if I don’t reach the pitcher’s mound. Did I say that right?

Goals

Finish my WIP. This is a spillover goal from last year. As I wrote in my performance eval a few weeks ago, I was on track to finish a ready-to-share draft of the novel until I got bogged down in the muddy middle. I cut, consolidated, replaced, and reshuffled, and now feel optimistic that my plot can carry me through the most difficult part. If not, I have a year to fix it, plus I already fixed it once, so I have a decent grasp on what it might take to pull the wagon out of the ditch, should we run off the road again. I have a daily word count goal, but the important task is finishing, not merely adding up words.

Maintain my blog and newsletter. I closed out 2025 with about 70 blog posts and that sounds about right for this year. I’ve already drafted out topics for a good portion of them, which is half the battle. I may mix in some creative nonfiction along with the craft and creativity posts, but don’t hold me to that. We’ll file that under stretch goals.

Networking and social. I will continue my weekly writing meetups and see about adding an in-person social time, if I have any takers. My monthly networking meetup is going great and I fully expect us to continue meeting. I would like have more social time but here is where time starts to crunch. In a perfect world, I would like to have a small dedicated critique group and I should (I hate that word) spend more time interacting on my social accounts. Let’s call the first 2 solid and achievable goals and the latter 2 optimistic stretch goals.

Reading. Reading isn’t exactly a writing goal, but as the man says – if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write. I have 80 books on the TBR list for next year, ranging from the highbrow – Sartre’s Being and Nothingness, a collection of seven of Joan Didion’s books, the complete poems of Robert Lowell, and a translation of the Nag Hammadi (Gnostic) scriptures – to the slightly breezier Complete Stories of Kurt Vonnegut and Patricia Highsmith’s Diaries, with some murder mysteries, graphic novels, and craft books to break up the heavy lifting. I’m very much looking forward to re-reading Ethan Mordden’s Buddies series and John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany. I could probably guess which books on the list won’t get read in 2026, but since I choose the books, that would be cheating. I should get through most of them.

Stretch goals

As the name implies, these are projects I’d like to work on, but won’t prioritize unless I blast through the more achievable goals. Ideally, these will be at the top to the list next year.

Draft book 2. I have a good outline for my next book, a follow-on novel to the WIP, set in the same world but with an entirely different cast. I don’t anticipate writing both books this year, but if I finish the first by the end of summer – eminently doable – then I could finish an ugly NANO-ish draft by the end of the year.

Stage book 3. I know what my next-next book will be, an expansion of a novella that I wrote a few years ago that needs more room to breath. If I need a break from – or between – book 1 and 2, I can work on what I call my Rationale document – a big picture review of the protagonist and the antagonism, what I’m writing and why, what I want to say, and what I want my readers to feel while and after reading the novel. It’s not quite an outline, though much of the document will find its way into an outline. Think of it as a vision board in a Word doc.

Art time. Every year I write down art time and every year I don’t set aside time to do any art. However, as you may recall, I spent a good chunk of September painting and setting up my craft room, so I have a drafting table, an easel, a kitchen table, and a writing desk glaring at me every time I pass by. I have paper. I have pencils. I’ve had some of my inks and paints so long they’ve probably gone crusty, but that’s ok. I like doodling and maybe I’ll get some time this year.

That’s a lot

And that’s ok. I know my priorities: the Top 3 are the WIP, my blog, and the networking group. The stretch goals are just that – fun things to pick at if I need a break or win the lottery. Compared to the Top 3, they aren’t vital to a successful year. I’ll report back next December.

What are your creative goals for 2025?

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One of my should-do-but-might-not-do goals this coming year is to interact more on my social media accounts. When I started my branding (loathsome word) project last summer, I cleared much of the detritus from my various public accounts and limited myself to following or friending folks actively engaged in their creative work. I deleted all my pop culture and political pages on Facebook and added a few writing groups that seemed both active and useful. When I log in, I want to see people doing. I want to be inspired, not mollified or enraged. This felt good for about five minutes, and then I went back to not caring too much about social media.

At its best, social media is a pathway to learning new information, discovering new hobbies or things to love, making friends, and doing whatever we call the relationship between followers and the followed. At worst, it’s a demoralizing horror show. Whether the account belongs to a friend or a social media presence, we may find ourselves scrolling through someone else’s life and comparing it to whatever drab nonsense we had to tolerate lately. Because humans tend to reveal only their best views, we are tricked into believing that everyone else is living a life of ease and fulfillment, while we are working ten hours a day, skipping the gym, watching movies alone, picking up dog poop, and planning our next staycation. Even the realization that most people are faking it helps only a little.

With this in mind, I was reminded of a blog post I shared a couple of years ago, from Tiffany Yates Martin: Measure Your Success by What You’re Doing, Not What You Want to Do. In the post, Martin touches on the above. “Realize that you’re only seeing the highlights, and as impressive as your life looks on your social media feeds, you know the interstices: the mundane, dull, difficult,” she writes. “Remind yourself that’s what other people’s posts—and lives—are too.”

Funnily enough, that is one reason why I share the occasional struggle. I’m excited to share news about my networking group or the invitation to speak at a writers’ workshop. But I also don’t mind confessing that I didn’t finish my novel this year because the middle sucked and I didn’t post for a couple of weeks because my car got totaled and I was stressed out about it. There’s a man behind the curtain and let me tell you – it’s a mess back here. There’s a reason I’ve hung curtains.

There is a converse side to social media. In her post, Martin writes about scrolling through her own social account and being pleasantly surprised by how much she’d accomplished over the past year.  Rather than focusing on what she’d missed out on, she experienced a moment of anti-FOMO.

Isn’t that a great idea? Looking back at your accomplishments is much healthier than doomscrolling someone else’s life and wishing you could have a bite of what’s on their plate. It’s certainly better than beating yourself up over what you didn’t do.

Even before social media, before we had a name for Fear of Missing Out, I experienced the self-shaming that comes from watching other people engage in cool activities, reach life milestones, and celebrate accomplishments. I don’t do that anymore. Partly because I’m older and wiser. Very few people live a life untroubled by drama and disappointment. But also, I’m doing my thing. I’m happy.

My 2025 turned out great. It wasn’t perfect and it didn’t go remotely as I planned, but when will it ever? I missed some blog deadlines, but I have more readers than I did last January, and when I scroll back through the year of posts, there are a number that I’m pretty proud of. My writing meetups didn’t quite take off the way I hoped, but I found my wonderful networking group. I didn’t finish my novel, but the partial novel I have is better than the novel I would have had if I’d forced myself to keep writing based on the weak outline.

I don’t have FOMO because I don’t feel like I missed out on anything.

Celebrate what you have. Look back on what you accomplished, without counting up what you didn’t. And don’t wait until next year to reflect on what you’re achieving today. Be proud of yourself now. Enjoy the moment and live in the memories you’re making.