I’ve had a busy couple of weeks with my head all but buried in a new short story which has grown to novella size and before it’s done may very well turn into a novel.  This is one that I actually wrote an outline for–something I hardly ever do–and the characters have just taken over the story, refusing to let it end at the word limit I had planned for it.  I love it when that happens, but I’m told it’s a very bad habit for an author to pick up.  Oh well…

In between the writing frenzy, all the madness of getting ready for Christmas, and dealing with a flare-up of the MS, I’ve been thinking about New Year’s resolutions.  It’s a little bit early I know, but someone asked me the other day where I wanted to be in five years in regards to my writing.  I won’t say I’ve never thought about it, because I have, but truthfully, not very much.  I mean, I have a sketchy-at-best plan, and sure, I’d like to hit the best-seller list one day–what writer wouldn’t?–but…goals, well, ick.

And really, it’s not so much the setting of the goal as it is the setting of a time limit.  That just doesn’t work for me.  I mean, I’m okay if someone else sets the deadline, but when I set them for myself, I almost never meet them.  Don’t know why that it is, but it is, and so I’ve learned not to say I’m going to do something in a set amount of time–which is, essentially, what a New Year’s resolution is.  Right?

The thing is…like goals and self-set deadlines, New Year’s resolutions don’t work for me.  I’ve made them in the past, but for the most part, they were forgotten and/or never attained.  So, if resolutions are your thing, I say, “go for it.”

As for me, I’ll stick with those unspoken dreams that are held close to my heart and shared only if and when I reach them.  Those work so much better for me.