
New Year, New Goals, and Stories We Are Still Becoming
There’s something tender about the beginning of a new year.
Not loud. Not demanding.
Just quietly asking, where do you want to grow?
As writers, January can feel heavy with expectations …new goals, fresh plans, ambitious word counts. But I’ve learned that the most meaningful writing goals don’t arrive with fireworks. They arrive slowly, like the morning light across a desk.
This year, instead of racing toward big declarations, I’m choosing intention over urgency.
New Goals Don’t Have to Be Big to Matter

We often think goals need to be bold to be valid. Finish the book. Launch the thing. Hit the numbers. But writing—real writing—often grows from smaller promises:
- Show up at the page often
- Trust the messy drafts
- Write even when the words feel ordinary
- Protect quiet time like it matters (because it does)
Not every season is about producing, some are about becoming. And both are enough.
Writing Is a Long Conversation, not a Deadline
One thing the new year reminds me of is this: writing isn’t a race, it’s a relationship. With our stories. With ourselves. With the version of us that keeps returning to the page even when no one is watching.
If you’re a writer stepping into January feeling behind, uncertain, or unfinished, good. That means you’re still in it. Still listening. Still willing to get that story out of your head.
The blank page isn’t judging you.
It’s waiting for you.
Permission to Begin Again (and Again)

The best part of a new year isn’t the clean slate, it’s permission. Permission to try again. To write differently. To rest when needed. To let go of goals that no longer fit and choose ones that feel true to your soul.
Maybe your goal this year isn’t to write more, but to write sincerer.
Maybe it’s to finish something or to finally begin.
Maybe it’s simply to believe that your words matter.
They do.
January doesn’t ask us to have it all figured out.
It simply asks us to begin … gently, faithfully, one sentence at a time.
