Welcome to 2024! Wishing you a very happy new year, filled with joy, good health, and success in all your endeavors.
Happy, Happy New Year!
Define Your Writing Goals for 2024: What Do You Want to Achieve?
I gave up making resolutions years ago, but I firmly believe in the power of goal setting, and in this case, setting your writing goals for the new year. Resolutions tend to get forgotten or dropped within weeks. Goals, however, if made correctly, can carry you through the year. What do you want to achieve in 2024?
Prep Work
Start by assessing where you are now. How far did you get with your writing goals this year? Were the goals you set realistic? Manageable? Or did you set yourself up for failure by overloading your schedule? Make note of what worked and what did not. Write things down, in a notebook or your planner or the app of your choosing. Just make sure you track your progress somewhere where it’s easy to go back and review over the year.
Next, think about where you’d like to go. For this stage, think big. Don’t limit yourself to what you want to achieve in a year, but envision a career path and the things you’d like to do along the way. It might stretch five years out or even ten. If you’ve done this before, revisit your previous ambitions and see if you still feel the same. Goals and dreams can alter as you move through your career. Don’t hold yourself to a plan simply because you drew it up three years ago. Let yourself be flexible.
Setting Your Writing Goals
Once you have the big picture down, consider what it will take to get from where you are currently to the next point on your career path. Focus on steps that are within your control. For instance, you night want to get an agent, but the timeline for that isn’t entirely up to you. Instead, making the goal to work toward getting an agent. Set a timeline based on the steps you will take: writing a query letter, making a submissions list, sending out queries in batches.
Even though we are looking at New Year’s goal setting, don’t tie yourself to the one-year schedule. If your goal is to write the first draft of a new project, you might take a year, but you might take more or less than that. Base your writing goals on your own work habits. Maybe you write daily, in which case a goal of 1,000 words per day might get you a draft by the start of April. 500 words per day result in a six-month draft. But if you’re a weekend writer, those same drafts might take a year or two. Don’t set your writing goals according to someone else’s idea of how you should work (unless, of course, you’re working to deadlines).
I find setting a variety of goals really helpful. One major project might stretch for the year, while smaller ones can be completed in a month or a quarter, giving me a sense of accomplishment that motivates me through the year. Not every goal should start January 1st, either. You might have additional stages that kick in come spring or summer. It could be the next stage of an earlier goal, research you plan to focus on during a vacation, or something completely new.
Breaking Down Your Goals
Consider all the steps you need to take to achieve your goals. Break the process down as far as you can go. It’s not enough to say writing 500 words every day will net a draft in six months. When do you plan to write? Where? If you miss a day, how do you plan to make up those words? Will you write on holidays?
Next, determine what will prompt you to work toward your goal. Do you need an accountability buddy? To set calendar reminders? Are you the type of person who works well if there’s a reward? Maybe you’ll treat yourself to writing at your favorite café once a week or celebrate with dinner out once you’ve finally hit send on that first batch of query letters.
Tracking Your Progress
Be sure to check in on your progress with your goals as the year goes by. Every quarter, or even monthly, if you have fast-moving goals, take a moment to review your plan. How are you doing? Do you need to change anything to make your plan work more smoothly? Have circumstances cropped up that require you to reconsider the systems you’ve set in place? Your writing goals are yours; only you can determine if they’re still what you want. Checking in gives you the chance to make sure you’re heading down the correct path.
Take the next few days to consider what you want your writing life to look like in 2024. And of course these tips for goal planning work for goals of all kinds. If you enjoy reading self-help books, I’m a fan of The 12-Week Year: Get More Done in 12 Weeks than Others Do in 12 Months by Brian P. Moran and Michael Lexington, mostly for the way they discuss breaking down goals and using smaller chunks of time to maintain momentum during the year. There’s also a version geared toward writing goals: The 12-Week Year for Writers by A. Trevor Thrall, Brian P. Moran, and Michael Lexington. I haven’t had a chance to read the latter yet, but it’s on my TBR and I’m interested to see how they adapt the concept for writing projects.
Have you already started setting writing goals for 2024? Are you excited for the new year?
Merry, Merry Christmas, 2023
Wishing a very merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a peaceful day filled with love and joy to everyone.
Writing as a Practice: December Writing Challenge 2023
Welcome to this year’s December Writing Challenge. Those of you familiar with the challenge from past years already know how this works, but for newcomers, or for anyone looking for a refresher, here’s a quick rundown on how to tackle the challenge. But first, why should you participate?
December can be a crazy month. The holiday season means days crowded with shopping, travel, entertaining, and a pretty full social calendar. But the end of the year can also bring with it very busy work schedules, with deadlines looming or year-end reconciliation of one type or another. December also tends to be the month when we plan for the new year, setting goals or resolutions. This type of chaos can spell the end of dedicated writing time for anyone juggling a writing project along with a day job and a personal life. So, each year, I set this challenge. I encourage writers to make their writing a priority and keep up with their writing practice, even for a few minutes each day.
The Basics
The rules for the December Writing Challenge are simple. You can adapt them as you see fit, to work with your personal goals and schedule. Writers already working professionally, who have a deadline, might want to ramp up the challenge to meet their goals. Newer writers can feel free to use the challenge as is in order to keep up their momentum through this busy time of year. If you’re coming off of NaNoWriMo, the challenge can be an excellent way to finish up that first draft if you’re looking to take it from 50,000 words to something more publishable. Whatever your goal, the challenge can help you push forward.
1. Write daily. Butt in chair, hands on the keyboard; curled on the couch with a pen and notebook; sitting at your favorite cafe. Wherever you prefer, using whatever medium works for you. But aim to spend at least a few minutes writing every day. I do recommend you try for half an hour, but if you can only manage 15 minutes, call that a win.
2. Ignore word counts or page goals, unless you need to hit a deadline of some sort. This challenge is not about finishing a project or being super productive. You just want to keep your hand in the game so, come January when you have a New Year’s resolution regarding your writing, you can dive right in. The challenge helps keep your writing muscles limber through the holiday season.
3. Write what you want. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry. Work on a novel, a memoir, some essays or short stories. Tackle one project all month long, or write something different every day. Feel free to play or experiment. Stretch your imagination. Whatever keeps you writing.
And that’s it. Those are the basic rules for the challenge. I will say that, regarding that first rule, daily writing is the goal, but it’s flexible. Don’t look at that and get discouraged.
Officially, I give you two free days to use as needed. Swamped getting the house ready plus cooking for incoming guests? A little hung over following your office holiday party? Use a free day. Or don’t. But keep in mind, the challenge should work for you, not against you. So, don’t let it add to your stress if you only end up writing a few days a week.
Tips for Finding Time to Write
If you can carve out a bit of time each morning before you start your day, terrific. But we all know how difficult that can be, particularly if you share your house with people vying for your attention. So, a few tips for ways to make writing your priority.
1. Tell people you’re participating in the challenge and ask them to help you keep to your writing time. Put on a literal writing hat (tiara? mouse ears?) when you’re working at home, so your family knows to give you your little window of quiet.
2. Schedule writing dates for yourself, either alone or with an accountability partner. Mark them on your calendar, set a reminder, and go write. Keep that appointment the same as you would a dentist appointment.
3. Keep a notebook and pen on you at all times. Write in the car when you’re waiting in the carpool pickup or the Starbucks drive-thru. Jot notes in the waiting room at the doctor or while getting an oil change.
4. Actually leave your desk during your lunch break, and go work on your own writing instead of working through the meal.
5. Break your daily writing into smaller chunks, especially if you need to hit a deadline or other goal. Several small writing windows instead of one long one might not be ideal, but it’s better than not writing at all for want of a long enough block of free time.
These are just a few ideas to get you going, However you approach the December Writing Challenge, have fun with it. Good luck, and happy writing!
Wrapping Up NaNoWriMo: Write into the New Year
How often do you promise yourself that you will keep up your writing during the holiday season, only to go weeks without a word? December brings chaos, with family and shopping and travel, never mind end-of-year work obligations. I understand how busy it can be, and how writing can take a back seat. Hence my annual December Writing Challenge.
Each year, I encourage writers to prioritize their writing during the month of December. The idea centers on maintaining your momentum, whether you are finishing up a month of frantic work for NaNoWriMo, or are just plugging along on a work-in-progress. Take a little time to write each day. Even fifteen minutes counts. Unless you’re on deadline, don’t fret over word counts or progress made. Simply show up and keep your writing muscles limber.
My own schedule looks crazy this year, but I plan to show up here every few days with some cheerleading for anyone taking the challenge, starting with a full post of tips tomorrow to kick things off. I’ll post on Twitter, Instagram, etc., more frequently, so be sure to follow me for extra encouragement.
Please note: I do not mean to say that a writer has to write every day under normal circumstances. But for this particular challenge, that’s part of the fun. When life cranks things up to eleven, can you find a way to make your goals a priority?
I hope to see many of you join in the challenge. Give a wave here or on socials if you’re participating. It’s always wonderful to see who has decided to play along, and how they progress. Happy writing!
Master the Art of the Synopsis and Get Your Novel Out the Door
I’m delighted to announce the launch of my online course, Master the Art of the Synopsis. Designed for writers struggling to craft a compelling synopsis, the class divides the process into manageable stages. It expands upon the course I’ve taught for years, both in person and virtually, and adds supplemental materials including a workbook and sample synopses. Students will have lifetime access and be able to work through the units at their own pace.
After spending months–or years–writing a novel, writers often hate having to tackle a synopsis. How do you distill an entire book down to a few pages, or even paragraphs? But don’t let a sense of overwhelm stall your submission process. If you or someone you know needs to polish up those synopsis-writing skills, check out the course today.
New Announcements for the New Year: Time to Redecorate
Toward the end of last year, I mentioned I planned to make some changes here on the website moving forward. Given how infrequently I blog, it makes sense to shift gears. This site will continue as an informational hub from now on. I plan to maintain the archive of posts, but in future things will be more news/announcement focused.
What does that mean? This site will remain your go-to spot for finding out what I’m looking to take on/represent, and where I’m traveling once the world opens up and we start to see in-person conferences again. If I’m teaching online, I’ll include that information here. Plus, announcements about TKA clients, book covers, and so on.
What’s going away? Anything that feels like an actual blog post. It doesn’t make sense to maintain a blog if I only write occasionally.
Instead, I’ve started a newsletter for anyone interested in the more personal side of publishing life. I plan to chat about the industry, books, reading, and writing, plus likely a bit of cultural overlap. Whatever I’m feeling passionate about at the moment. Right now the goal is two issues per month, directly to your inbox. The first post is up, so if you’d like to check it out and/or subscribe, you can find me over on Substack at Tempest in a Teacup.
One last announcement for now: Queries reopen on February 21st. I’ll likely update the wishlist here right before reopening.
Twenty Years Later: Remembering 9/11
Last year at this time, I wondered how it would feel to recall 9/11 from the other side of a global pandemic. How many major tragedies do we witness in a lifetime? I know there’s no number. It depends on the life–how long, when one lives. You cannot hold up one event and compare it to another. Each one resonates differently for each of us. And today, after twenty years, 9/11 still feels shocking and visceral in a way nothing else does.
People hold complicated opinions about New York City. They love it, hate it. Admire it. Find it too dirty/busy/noisy. They consider it dangerous or magical or full of itself. And frankly, all of those opinions are fair. But New York also represents things that many people strive for; success, wealth, culture, creativity, importance, excellence. There’s the old line from the song: “If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere.” NYC serves as a proving ground. A challenge. It’s part of what made it a target.
On the Day
In September, 2001, I worked at 100 Park Avenue, for a mutual fund firm, in corporate communications. Finance. The sales team had desks one section over on the same floor, with TVs suspended from the ceiling so they could have CNN and CNBC running all day. That’s how we all learned what was going on.
Some people were still on their way to work when the first plane hit, but I was at my desk. We thought it was an accident until the second one. The morning turned upside down. Like everyone watching, we were horrified. But also, every person in that office knew at least one person in the towers. Nature of the industry, plus many of us had grown up in the tri-state area. There were friends, family, work associates.
Everyone got on their phones. People spoke to loved ones inside those burning buildings. Early on, things seemed under control. They weren’t evacuating. But that changed fast. Coverage was live, so every terrible moment played out on the news. And the worse it looked, the harder it became to connect. Calling my mother in Connecticut, I learned she’d been trying to call me with no success; phone lines were swamped.
First one tower fell, then the second. Those toppling towers destabilized the nearest buildings, and the remainder of the morning became a tense wait to see which held on and which succumbed. You didn’t want to watch. You could not stop watching. I know I was breathing that entire day, but I only remember holding my breath.
Beyond the towers, there were bomb threats. Everything shut down. Bridges and tunnels closed to traffic; trains and buses halted. Anyone who lived outside Manhattan was trapped. We stayed at work, not because we were working, but because it wasn’t safe to leave.
Getting Out
Finally, word came trains were running out of Grand Central Terminal, starting early afternoon. I packed up and headed over. There was one train for each of the three lines: Hudson, Harlem, and New Haven. No schedule, no departure time. They packed us on, as many as fit, and started a slow chug out of the city.
It was silent on the train. No one spoke. People stared off in front of themselves, unseeing. One older man in my train car wore a dark suit covered in a grey film of ash and dirt, and had a bleeding cut on his forehead. Shock and exhaustion clung to him. I had no doubt he’d run to escape a collapsing building.
Paramedics waited at each train station, and as we slowly pulled into each stop, they scooped up the injured from the platforms.
When I finally got off the train, my cellphone blew up with messages. Everyone who hadn’t been able to get hold of me while I was in the city. I went to my mother’s house. My family sat and watched the news. I felt like I was coming down with the flu; exhausted, shaky, unreal. It had started as this beautiful, early fall day. The kind with a cloudless sky and the perfect temperature and endless sunshine. And then everything changed. What came next?
Aftermath
For the next week, I split my time between my mother’s house and my own apartment. I watched too much news, dreading each time they replayed significant moments from that day, but wanting the updates. The internet served as a lifeline, allowing people to check in and announce they were safe. So many people walked out of the city in the days following the attacks, some hiking over bridges to get to their apartments in outer boroughs. Others crashed with friends. After a few days, people who had not appeared began to be considered missing.
My office was closed, because we were one block from Grand Central, which continued to have bomb scares. I called a hotline each morning to get the status. The idea of returning to the city was nerve wracking, but I needed something to do. Staying home felt worse.
When my office finally reopened, new security measures were implimented. The lobby, once open, gained a security/ID check. But we were incredibly busy. Financial markets don’t appreciate chaos.
Flyers papered the city. Photos of those who had not come home.
Eventually I learned that four people I knew had died in the collapse of the towers. Countless had managed to get out. Somehow.
That winter I came down with first bronchitis then walking pneumonia. I lived on antibiotics. My lungs refused to clear. “It’s the air,” a doctor told me. “You work in the city, so it’s worse. You’re inhaling debris from the towers.”
I moved to California late the following September. Not because of 9/11. If anything, I delayed the move because of it. Leaving felt like deserting. But I needed a change, for many reasons, and so finally, I went.
Missing NYC
I was born in New York and I grew up with one foot in the city, even after we moved to the ‘burbs in search of lower taxes and good public schools. I spent many years working there, and even after moving away, I’ve returned for visits and work trips. It’s my city. I love it. It’s in my heart.
But we live in a different world. I watched how the pandemic hit New York, and I understood why people moved away, even as I also understood the ones who stayed. Because for me, New York is a microcosm of the nation, and I’d been feeling the same way. When the place you live feels unsafe, when you’re frustrated by your inability to fix anything, it’s natural to look elsewhere. To wonder if you could make things work if you just made a change.
This tragedy is not that tragedy. And I think more than anything, I miss living in a time and place where the answer to adversity is unity. Where we pull together instead of tearing each other apart.
Do I miss New York? Yes. Always. But more than that, I miss the spark of hope I felt returning to New York the week after the 9/11 attacks, to find nearly everyone pulling together and doing what was necessary to get things back to normal.
Give Yourself Permission to Be Creative: Ethan Hawke via Ted Talks
Ethan Hawke puts himself out there. Whether he is acting, playing music, or putting pen to paper, he throws his full effort behind the task. In his recent Ted Talk from quarantine, he shares some sound advice and demonstrates the honesty behind his craft. Even if you’re not a fan, you should give it a watch. I particularly recommend it for anyone suffering from imposter syndrome, or struggling due to the pandemic.
Margin Notes: Does Marginalia Make You a Better Writer?
Do you scribble margin notes in your books when you read? I never really adopted the habit of keeping marginalia, but this past week I read Austin Kleon’s post, Reading with a Pencil, so now I’m thinking about it. He claims marking up your reading material serves as a gateway to becoming a writer. It forces you to read with a writer’s brain. I can see why he says it, but I wonder if it’s true.
Margin notes felt wrong to me when I was a kid. My mother trained me early on not to write in books. She took me to the library weekly, so there was a specific logic in her insistence I treat the books well. It carried over into how I kept my own books. I recall going through a very brief period at about four when I underlined (in pencil) words I recognized. I say recognized rather than read because “kitten” isn’t difficult to pick out with the book is The Three Little Kittens. But I outgrew the habit quickly, probably about the time my mother realized what I was doing.
Through school, I took notes separately, in my notebook. Teachers handed out all of our textbooks at the start of the year and expected us to return them in good condition in June. The habit was so well ingrained that by college, when I was purchasing my books, it took conscious effort to highlight the text. Even then, I reserved margin scribbles and highlights for my math and science books. As an English major, I mostly read novels in thin-paged editions I tried to keep clean. Ink would have bled through those pages. Pencil would smudge and become illegible. Writing in them felt impractical.
But occasionally I’d come across books with margin notes. At the library, used bookstores, in a friend’s loan. I read enough literary criticism and biographies of authors including references to marginalia to become curious. What process of reading resulted in these small comments? So I decided to give it a try.
Armed with a few sharpened pencils, I crashed on the couch with my latest book and set to reading with a pencil in hand. But it wasn’t a particularly successful experiment. I’d get involved in the book and forget to make any notes whatsoever. Or, I’d grow so self-conscious about needing to take notes that my reading slowed to a crawl.
Looking back having now read Kleon’s post, I understand that the slow, thoughtful reading necessitated by making margin notes helps you read more closely. It forces you to analyze the text in a different way. But at the time, I tried to take notes more because I wanted to be a person who left witty comments in the margins than from a desire to read deeply.
Which brings me to my question. Does keeping marginalia automatically give you a leg up on becoming a writer? It no doubt makes you a better reader. You read more thoroughly, think through the narrative on a different level. You engage with the content. And the act of writing notes has been proven to help you recall what you’ve read. But is that the same things as reading like a writer?
I once read a book on how to write romance–maybe twenty-five years ago, so I can’t recall the title. The author recommended taking a favorite romance novel and marking it up with a color code. Plot development should be underlined in one color, characterization in another, action a third, and so on. I gave it a very brief attempt before giving up. First, writing is not that clear cut; sentences serve multiple purposes at once, so what color to choose? Second, the slow, frustrating task had me ready to throw my colored pencils out a window after less than a chapter. I’d never make it through underlining the book. Still, the process of trying to separate out those differen parts of the text showed how well the author had entwine them. It served as a lesson on book structure, which was ultimately the point.
Marginalia can include the reader’s thoughts on many aspects of the text. Looking through books with margin notes, you’ll find lovely quotes underlined, disgust expressed at purple prose, and comments on the sanity of the protagonist. Readers focus on whatever captures their attention, but not everything readers note will be helpful to their writing process. I’d argue marginalia can definitely be helpful to the developing writer, but that the most helpful marginalia occurs when the writer reads with that specific intention. A reader who reads for pleasure and happens to make notes won’t engage on the same level as one hoping to improve their writing.
What are your thoughts? Do you write in your books? Is it something you feel helps you understand how the author approached their work? I’d love to hear some other takes on the subject.