2017 Goals

I realize I’m a little late to the party with this, but eh, I don’t care. I’m here now. Where’s the cake? 

This is the point in the game where I’m expected to reflect on the goals that I set and accomplished (or failed to accomplish) in 2016. But my brain doesn’t want to do that, so you can just reflect on them all by your onesies, if you feel so inclined. They can be found here and here. 

This is also the point in the game where I’m expected to make more goals for myself, or rather, recycle old goals from last year, like regifting an ugly sweater. I can get a little more onboard with this one, but to be perfectly honest, I’m kind of over goals and resolutions. 

I’m a little over them because I forget years are short, and I make big plans. Then I blink and the new year has come and I’ve accomplished many things, but not many of the things I actually set out to accomplish. So even though I’ve succeeded, I don’t feel like I can celebrate. After all, my successes weren’t the successes I had planned. Or even if they were, they don’t feel as exciting as I had thought they would. Things rarely feel like I expect them to. Maybe instead of being over goals, I’m just over expectations—my own and other people’s. I’m not over trying, I’m just over trying to fit a wrong-shaped mold. 

I’m not going to tell you how many novels and secret projects I plan to write/edit this year, because at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know how much time I’ll have on my hands or how many victories I’ll win over my fatigue and my depression and my anxiety in this 2017 space. I’m not going to tell you about my deadlines, even though I’ve set more than I could ever hope to meet. 

It’s not that I’m not excited about what I might accomplish in 2017, it’s just that I’m scared to be excited. Getting my hopes up feels like the best way to get let down. 

I want to beta read more books. I don’t know if I will. 

I want to edit all the things. I don’t know how much I’ll manage. 

I’m working on finishing DRACONIAN. It feels like the work will never end. 

I want to finish editing BMT. So far I’ve gotten off to an encouraging start this year. I hadn’t realized just how much I miss the second draft stage, how much I love it best of all because it involves so much heavy lifting, so much moving and shaking, so much intricate thinking. 

I want to edit a secret project for this blog. A secret novella project that you are absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to know about yet. Because it’s a secret. But who knows, maybe this novella that I wrote and hope to edit will accidentally turn into a trilogy and I will have no secret project to share with you by the end of the year (but then you won’t be disappointed about it, because it was a secret, so you didn’t know to expect anything—aren’t I clever?). 

I want to be more consistent with answering comments and commenting on blogs, but let’s face it, I have social anxiety and limited time, which makes prioritizing conversation of any sort not just difficult but tiring. I still want to try, but as always, I’m not the type of person who can afford to have a consistent priority like that, as much as I have sporadically tried (and failed) to make it so. 

I want to do more things that bring me joy and fewer things that drain my energy. 

I want to reread more of the books I love, because they’re like comfort food, except they won’t make me fat. 

I want to buy more books and drink more coffee. (Disregard the screaming. My wallet was simply having a nightmare.) 

I plan to read a little less (I know, I know, clearly something is wrong with me), watch a little less Netflix (a resolution that will go into effect only after I’ve watched A Series of Unfortunate Events, thank you very much), spend less time on social media, spend more time writing and editing, spend more time journaling, make more money, blah, blah, blah. 

Sorry, I was talking, but then I got bored.

In essence, I don’t know what will happen this year. I want so much—I always want to do so much, and I always forget that years are small and I am one person who needs sleep and gets burnt out and who fails sometimes. 

I may end up starting a full-time job, which I am excited but nervous about. (Oh, and see, my wallet calmed down and went back to sleep. Look at its happy lil’ face. I wonder what it’s dreaming about.) 

I may end up going insane. It could happen. 

I may end up drinking too much Starbucks and dying. 

I may end up making 2017 the best I can. 

We’ll see. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? What are some of your plans for 2017?