Q: What, in the new year, will you commit to acknowledging that you are already doing, have done, and also already are?

Plant your seeds.

Welcome to our weekend conversation!

---

Yes, you read the title of this post right.

Before I explain, let me first say that I spent some time yesterday in the Lit Mag News archives, looking for the weekend conversation I posted around this time last year. Oh dear ones, we’ve come so far! We’ve shared so much!

In that post, I discussed New Year’s resolutions, and I shared what I love about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).

I love the idea that anyone at any time can commit themselves to a dream just by getting started….

The fact of the matter is, we all have the capacity to commit to something big, any time. We do not need to wait for a special day. We do not need to wait for someone else to give us permission. We can say to ourselves, Starting at 2:37 pm on January 6th, I’m going to begin writing short stories again. Or, Beginning Friday, January 9th at 11:32 am, I’m going to commit to taking myself seriously as a writer.

…What I’m trying to say is that every single one of us has the capacity to channel our own inner NaNoWriMo challenge, anytime. Pick a day. Pick an hour. Pick a room in your home. Grab your favorite pen. And begin.

Then I asked what you all will commit to in the new year. The answers were so lovely! We heard about ambitions for novellas, novels and monthly writing goals. We heard about expressing gratitude. We heard about aiming for 100 rejections and sending, sending, sending out new work.

We also heard from people who are not into resolution-making. This is a sentiment I understand fully. For one thing, resolutions so rarely last. Yeah, yeah, we will all quit carbs and have six-pack abs by the end of January. Call me when you’re ready to eat chips and binge-watch White Lotus again.

For another thing, it can feel forced. As I said above, anyone can resolve to remake themselves at any time. Who says it has to be January 1st? Who even says it has to happen at all? The push to make some grand goal for one’s life can feel to some like an artificially imposed external motivator. Like an engine churning beside you, without a car. Who put that engine there? I didn’t ask for an engine. Why is it making so much noise?

As I was writing this post, I got to thinking about resolutions generally and why they so often fail. I realized that part of the reason might have to do with how we conceptualize them. Whether we realize it or not, I think many of us approach resolutions as a kind of penance, if not outright punishment.

I will start my novel once and for all…because I’ve been putting it off long enough.

I will finally submit my writing…because I’ve been a coward for too long.

I will revise that essay I keep setting aside…because I’m tired of being ashamed of not confronting my past.

I will organize my poems into a collection…because I hate how lazy I’ve been.

I will send out more of my work for publication…because my CV is pathetic.

I will sign up for a writing workshop…because I suck at this and think I’m doing it all wrong.

Pretty grueling, the stuff that goes on in our heads. Believe me, I know. I hear it all, I’ve thought it all, I’ve lived it all.

Invariably resolutions like this will fail for most of us. Not all of us, of course. And not all the time. Self-loathing and the occasional mental lashings can certainly serve as fuel to feed our drive. But this kind of self-talk can also wind up suffocating us. It stifles the work, strangles our attempts to speak truthfully and play on the page. It puts us at odds with ourself, and how can our voice ever freely emerge from a rigid stranglehold like that?

Berating yourself for not being good enough, not being aggressive enough, motivated enough, inspired enough, organized enough, brave enough, ambitious enough, humble, patient, educated, old, young, cool, savvy…is, in my opinion and experience, not a path toward happiness and fulfillment as a writer.

You might very well get stuff done.

But there is so much more to being a writer than getting stuff done. Isn’t there?

There are discoveries to be made, joys to be felt. There are ribs to crack apart so that you can peer inside. There are wounds to heal. There is pleasure to be felt. There are memories to record and revisit. There is grief to process. There is communion to be experienced. There is fun to be had. So much fun! There is creation, nothing more, nothing less.

I know you all know this. I know this is why you’re here.

So, this weekend I was wondering, what if we came at New Year’s resolutions a bit differently? What if, rather than focusing on what we want to do, we focused on what we’ve already done, what we have already discovered that works, and maybe too, who we’ve already become?

What if, instead of setting goals from a place of recrimination, squeezing the life out of our poor selves who are honestly just trying to get through each busy day while not sinking under the weight of endless shitstorms of chaos and noise being hurled at us from all directions all the time, what if we set goals by first acknowledging the profound work we have already done? The processes we’ve already found. The strategies we’ve already developed. I know we have found these. Each of you has, whether you know it or not.

It’s not about the publication wins. It’s not even necessarily about the wins, per se, at all.

It’s about seeing what you are already doing that is serving you. What seeds have you already planted, and what have you been doing to nurture their growth? Tell us. Tell us so that you can tell yourself, so that you can give yourself the needed permission to see what’s already working, and to keep doing it. Tell us, so we can learn from you, which is what these weekend conversations are all about.

I will tell you mine.

One small/big thing I started doing this past year is staying offline when I am writing in the mornings. I’m typically good about staying focused on my work when I need to. But I did have a terrible habit for a long time. I wasn’t even aware of how bad this habit was, until I stopped doing it.

For months, maybe even years, when I reached a certain word count goal or felt satisfied with something I’d written, I’d pause and check my email or go on Twitter/X. Never for a long time, and I had a rule of not engaging with anything unless it was urgent. But I thought of this as a kind of “treat” once the hard work of creative writing was done.

Only recently, I stopped doing this. When I’m writing now, the computer is on airplane mode. When I’ve finished and feel satisfied, I get up and walk away. I read, look out my window, or go outside. Anything, really, other than buzzy internet things that can be handled later in the day.

It sounds small, but it’s allowed for a major shift in my work, how I think about it, and my level of attention to it. It’s also allowed me to care more for my writing mind. I take conscious rests. I stare into space a lot. I let myself do nothing, a lot. Though of course I know it’s not nothing. The gears of our subconscious are always spinning. Sometimes letting them go on without distraction is the most important part of our work.

In the new year, I want more of this.

Yes, like all of you, there are specific goals I want to achieve. But I also know that I cannot achieve them without those hours of solid concentration. So my resolution is not to achieve the thing once and for all.

Rather, it’s to continue doing what I am already doing. Expanding it. Nurturing it. Helping it grow.

What about you?

It’s your turn, dear ones.

Tell us about those seeds you’re planting. Tell us what is already working in your writer life. Because even if it’s small, even if you don’t fully realize it, the truth is, something already is working.

It’s just a matter of recognition.

---

What are you doing now that feels right for you, and how will you sustain this in the new year?

What writing habits have been good for you, and how will you be sure to continue with them?

What approach to sending out submissions (mental, emotional or tactical) has been really effective for you, and how will you keep up with this approach?

What is great about your writing practice, and how will you continue to feed that part of it?

What do you already do well, that you want to continue to nurture?

Don’t be shy. Tell us so we can learn from you. That is, after all, why we are here.

---