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This is a question no one asks, ever. When I searched online for this phrase specifically, I got a lot of reasons you can’t accomplish your goals:
- No motivation (read: You’re just lazy)
- Poor planning (What if you can’t do planning?)
- You don’t know how to do it (this sounds suspiciously like what outlining people say about outlines)
- Excuses, excuses, excuses (Dean Wesley Smith says a form of this)
Is this just me, or are these really pretty negative?
Goals surfaced as a big deal thing with productivity advice. According to Cal Newport in one of his podcasts, productivity today originated in Silicon Valley. Basically, productivity is computer programming. And goals are linked with productivity, and career.
I’ve ready many, many productivity books. Probably too many. Most of them followed the same general pattern. Link your tasks to your goals (always The Career as if you had no life outside of work) so you can accomplish them. In an Annual Review class I took several years ago, Tiago Forte of Building a Second Brain said he believed that productivity would be replaced by goals.
I think he’s right, but not in the way he thinks. Goals are productivity. We see a variation of this in the diet culture now: Relabeling the marketing. Diet culture stopped selling in 2017-2018, so they rebranded as wellness. That’s when Weight Watchers changed their name to WW. Wellness lectured on eating the correct foods and avoiding a laundry list of foods as “inflammatory.” But wellness may have run its marketing course. Now, as we roll into the new year when the companies sell us on weight loss goals, they’re changing the labels again, back to diet. Now the companies are selling, “Eat what you like.” Others are using longevity.
Goals are all wrapped up in diet culture, as well as fitness, your job, and, of course, writing. Many people promoting goals are marketing. To get you to buy that diet program, to get you to buy that app/tracker, to get you to buy that planner. The marketing spiel shows up in the emotion in how they sell: “Powerful goals,” “achieve your goals and succeed,” and “higher performance.” I pulled these from a general search on goal setting and didn’t have to work hard to find them.
Somehow, New Year’s resolutions shifted to goals as if they were the same thing. Resolutions are more fuzzy and hopeful; with goals, we think of football.
Of course, I looked up the meaning of both words in Merriam-Webster:
Goals: “The end toward which effort is aimed.” The rest of the definitions are sports and games, so it’s easy to imagine football. This one’s based more on winning (and if there are questions on how writing is treated with this, anyone hear the phrase, “Win Nano”?)
New Year’s Resolution: “A promise to do something in the new year.” That’s a completely different meaning than goals. This one’s based more on hope. But hope is fuzzy and you can’t sell it.
For writers, goals show up with only things that can be measured:
- Write five books in a year
- Write 1,667 words a day
- Write every day
Everyone leaves off the non-metric things, like researching, revising, cycling, proofreading, and even thinking. The last is even scoffed at by some writers.
At 20 Books Las Vegas last November, I attended a mastermind session. I thought it might have some craft-based areas. Nope. Not at all. I supposed learning craft is hard to define as a goal because there aren’t any metrics. You can measure the number of classes you took, hours spent, but not the actual learning. It’s fuzzy, too.
Instead, everyone in my group—we all had published ten books—did a round-robin discussing what our goals were. I mentally cringed. I’ve always hated it when people ask what your goals are. Because, when it was my turn, my answer was, “I can’t do goals. They’ve never worked for me.”
I got a very brief silence (kind of like being a pantser in a group of outliners) and then everyone launched into a discussion about production goals. Oddly, no one in the group knew what those were and the one goalless person had to explain it. 😊
Goals have always perplexed me, though I could never explain why. I just don’t connect particularly to them. If I create a goal, they don’t motivate me to complete them. When I’ve had to create one, like for the day job, I start with “What do they want to see?” Even when I was in the Army and my sergeant was preparing to send me to the promotion board, he asked what my goal for NCO was (the only “goal” for promotion for me was more money in my paycheck. There are priorities).
But I’ve tried the usual for writing, because everyone said you were supposed to do that. Joanna Penn describes a production schedule and measuring daily words. James Scott Bell tells us to do word count quotas (is it just me, or do you think of speeding tickets when you hear quotas?). Dean Wesley Smith defines levels of pulp speed, because, well, you’d have to track the words to know you were fast.
Most often, when I set word count goals and moved forward, I simply forgot they existed. I often would find the spreadsheet I was tracking it in several months later, with maybe a week filled in. Even when I got a really pretty one that I liked, with the calculations done for me, it made no difference.
Some will say that I haven’t picked the right goals or didn’t do them right. That sounds an awful lot like what outliners tell pantsers, that if the outline didn’t work, it wasn’t the right one or I didn’t understand how to do them. Or that I should put a reminder on my calendar, based on the assumption if I saw it there, I would do it. Others will tell me I don’t want writing bad enough if I can’t make a daily word count (this to a person who went through a terrible period where I felt like I had broken my writing ten ways to Sunday and despaired I would never finish a novel. Most people would have quit).
None of it’s true.
For me, 2023 was a big change. I took the Clifton Strengths test after reading Becca Syme’s Dear Writer You Need to Quit. And it explained a lot. One of those things is why goals don’t work very well for me.
These are my strengths:
Adaptability and Futuristic are time-driven goals. Futuristic is, well, futuristic. Another high futuristic writer took great pleasure in feeding her strength by working out goals for the next decade. I can’t do that myself because of the opposing one of Adaptability. Adaptability is the “now” strength. It takes all its energy from firefighting. It thrives on change.
From Gallup on Adaptability.
“Worry less about long term goals. Annual resolutions are not going to seem real to you. Focus more on what you are doing today. Don’t worry about doing too much prep work.”
And from another Gallup post:
“Because they find fulfillment in taking each day as it comes and living in the here and now, those with strong Adaptability talents may not be able to clearly present goals and objectives — nor may they be particularly able to articulate past processes or connect the past to the present.”
This video charmed me (dogs! Golden Retriever!). But it’s a perfect description of how Adaptability goes through the day. At work, I’m working on Task A, go look something up, and next thing I know I’m on Task D, though I have no idea how that happened. If I set a goal, as I move further away from it, everything else comes in, and Adaptability happily follows the flow. This is how I can set a goal and completely forget it exists.
I note all of this because we get shaped a lot by marketing, most of it subtle. I think even some of the writers are unaware that they are repeating the marketing spiel they’ve heard. Worse, we hear it repeated so often, we think it must be true for everyone.
Productivity stopped selling as well, so everyone relabeled it as goals, habits, and even passion. They make money off telling everyone we’re all the same (because if they said we were all different, the marketing doesn’t work). All you need to do is look for the emotional connection:
- Don’t you want to be successful?
- Don’t you want to hold a book in your hands?
- Don’t you want to be published?
Followed by “Goals are the way to do this!” (Or habits or passion.) Of course, this leaves writers like me who can’t do goals at all, thinking something is wrong with them. I’m not the only one who can’t do word count goals. Another writer friend says she focuses on the metric (the numbers) rather than the writing.
Something to think about: Word count goals are a relatively new trend, because you have an app that counts the words. SMART goals, which states goals should be measurable, also showed up in 1981 at the same time as personal computers, leading today to app trackers of all kinds. But when writing was done on a typewriter, no such word count was available. Writers still had to provide a general word count so the editor would know how much space the story would take up. If memory serves, you counted the number of lines on the page, then picked an average line and counted those words. Then you did the math to figure out what the average number of words were per page, then multiplying that by the number of manuscript pages.
The writers of that time most likely measured productivity by number of pages, since it was a physical page that you pull out of a typewriter. But probably wasn’t tracked anywhere; it would have been more likely it was more of, “The story needs to be in the mail by the end of the week, so I need to make sure I get three pages done today.”
The modern day obsession with goals—yes, obsession, driven by marketing to us—leads writers to describe how to get more and more word count. Michael La Ronn mentioned in one of his books that you could take your cell phone with you and write in all those little pockets of time where you have ten minutes. A writer friend tried to do that, and just couldn’t. She needed time to warm up into the story. I think the pockets of time method works for Dean Wesley Smith’s Writing into the Dark, but that assumes you can write exactly like DWS does.
Pockets of time can be very problematic, as is the focus on getting the numbers. This is classic productivity thinking. In many of the productivity books I read, the authors talked about jamming more and more into your day. If you had five minutes before a meeting, that was a great time to catch up on email. You could keep a list of easy, quick tasks to do when you suddenly had ten minutes free.
Exactly when do you have time to be a human being?
So when you go into 2024, think about your differences. If goals don’t work for you, that’s fine. You’re not broken. If goals do work for you, don’t let them turn you into a machine.
Seriously, it’s like we’re telepathic twins or something, as this general feeling has been on my mind a lot leading toward the end of the year.
I’ve been thinking a lot about stepping back from the (four) writing blogs I follow besides yours, and a couple of those bloggers have made decisions lately that make that choice more and more attractive, for a reason that’s only become clear to me as I started to type this comment.
That reason is: I had a lot more fun writing when it was *just writing.* Before the blogs, before the How-To-Write books and blogs apparently took over the world. There was no pressure on the writing – no assumption that I *had* to write a lot, quickly, because of course I wanted to make not just some money but a living with the writing – just the writing itself.
Unfortunately, my Strengths (top five in order: Intellection, Strategic, Input, Learner, Deliberative) combined with my INTJ nature mean that…well, I like to learn. A lot. And then make plans…and then the plans feel like pressure, and I don’t do well with pressure, even when that pressure is composed of good things – like this Lab:
So it’s a challenge for me, finding a way to make the publishing just as much fun as the writing…and then doing everything I can to ignore the outcome of the publishing. Wish me luck!
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Hi, Peggy
Wow, this fired up my brain cells. I think I’m going to be focusing on finding the fun again in writing. I didn’t realize it had faded back because of all the pressure to produce words and market. Looks like more intellecting on this in the future!
A wakeup call for me was Futuristic. It’s been grieving over the last year at the loss of a future I imagined since I was eight. I started writing then, and it was so much fun! I just wanted to make up stories all day and have fun. So Futuristic imagined I would write full-time. It became an island of hope for me when the day job got really, really bad.
In early 2023, Susan B told me that with my high adaptability, writing full-timer would never happen (it needs an outside structure, which would be a day job. If I had nothing to do but write, Adaptability would never get to it). My gut said she was right, but I didn’t realize I was grieving for that until I ran across a post on it.
You’re absolutely right. When I first got on the internet, writing was shiny and fun. Writers discussed it like a bunch of nerds–with this shared interest. Like what we did at science fiction conventions in the 70s and 80s, and into the 90s.
Then it shifted, pretty subtly at first. I suddenly found myself carefully adjusting what I said online because people became outright hostile if you didn’t fit a certain mold (which is where the pantser vs. outliner thing started). My comments on blogs were frequently deleted because I expressed different opinions than what the blogger was marketing. Didn’t know it at the time, but my Intellection felt like it couldn’t have an opinion.
Then I discovered an outlier writer that scratched my Intellection and input. Lots of discussion. He wasn’t afraid to be controversial. Nor did he mind differing opinions, as long as they weren’t newbies streaming in to tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about. But in more recent years, he’s slipped more toward marketing (never more obvious with the changes to his classes), and his public focus is less on writing in general and more on “This is the way you should do it.” I also followed another writer, who had some thoughtful discussion and links that fed my input early on. But he fixated, oddly, on marketing for the other writer and narrowed his focus. The last time I commented, he outright told me that my needing to think about the story was completely wrong and I was in the myths and banned me for not following the rules.
2024 should be interesting discovery time!
And for your Learner side, Cal Newport talks about learning in his podcast.
[audio src="https://mgln.ai/e/441/https://pscrb.fm/rss/p/https://pdst.fm/e/www.buzzsprout.com/1121972/14226248-ep-281-learning-hard-things.mp3" /]
His comments on note taking are about the sanest I’ve seen. He’s app and system agnostic, which is refreshing in this world of app recommendations (and he doesn’t market).
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Yeah, that’s been bugging me about those two writers (if they’re who I think they are; I’m 99% certain on both – grin), too: that they say “write what you want!” and then sort of backhand to “but only if you do it my way.” *baffled*
And yes, they’re two of the four I’m considering stepping back from, for obvious reasons.
My biggest challenge(s) will come from my Input and Learner strengths. I both need to learn and like to learn, and that sometimes pulls me into a disaster loop of, “If I read one more blog/book, then I’ll know enough,” and I forget that I was in 4-H for ten years as a child, and their motto was, “We learn by doing.”
Now to convince my Strengths that doing is just as valid a learning method as reading…
May the best of 2023 be the worst of 2024!
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That’s a challenge for me, too. Learning is my #6, so it’s still high. Combined with input, I need, well, input. And everyone today talks about word count, productivity, and marketing…not the writing itself, unless they’re marketing to beginners.
The result is that it’s hard to find new or different things to learn about writing. I’m going to have to work at keeping these strengths engaged.
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Huzzah, another non-goal person! These days, I refuse to attach any numbers to my writing (time or word count). They make writing feel like work, not play, and as Linda wisely noted, the stuff you can measure isn’t really the important stuff anyway. At least not for me. I feel like the focus on numbers misses the big picture of why we create.
I’m also a music student, so here’s an analogy: musicians can measure hours in the practice room and speed on a metronome, but are those two things the most important things to measure? Absolutely not. No one cares that you can play a piece with tons of notes at blinding speed — they can feel the difference between a robotic performance and an artistic one. Like writing, music requires enough craft skills to create something artistic that can touch another person. You can’t measure those things numerically, but you can certainly work on qualitative improvements.
These days, I just focus on improving my storytelling abilities and writing what I feel like writing. I’ve avoided writing groups and events for many years and I think that’s helped keep things fun.
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I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about goals–except for word count goals when writing for NaNoWriMo–or cutting back or adding words to make a submission goal. And I recently read a January resolutions article: They usually fade by February.
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Is selling my novel’s movie rights a goal?
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Hi, Pagadan
I don’t think so. It’s nice to imagine, but it relies on other people. If the other people don’t cooperate…
However, this comes from the late Dave Farland and can be a goal: To improve your chances of Hollywood taking notice, add a couple of obviously visual scenes in your book. This also helps with covers as well, because the artist has something to illustrate. (And Dave also noted that if Hollywood gives you the choice of a percentage or full payment, take the payment. Percentage means they will never pay you).
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Thanks for those suggestions. It’s good to be prepared!
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As a reminder, you should never, ever SELL your rights. You should LICENSE them – and, in the case of Hollywood, for cash up front.
If you find you MUST take a percentage, make it a percentage of the box office GROSS, not net. As Linda said, there’s never anything left after net.
And remember to bring your cross and holy water (or other appropriate implements) to the negotiating table. 😉
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Peggy, Thank you! I’ll remember that.
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I just had a bit of an epiphany – a couple of days early, depending on your religious persuasion, but I’ll take it.
The reason productivity books focus on career goals is that there’s a defined path for those: follow steps c, f, m, etc., and provided you’re not a complete jerk to everyone around you, you’ll get results q, r, s, etc. If you sell N widgets, you’ll get a bonus, promotion, or whatever, as one example.
That’s also true for many health goals: do x type of exercise for y results. If you lift heavy weights, you’ll build muscle. (This is limited, somewhat, by your body type and other personal factors, but the general principle remains.)
But we’re creatives – most of us writers. THERE IS NO PATH TO CREATIVE SUCCESS.
You can write as many books as Brandon Sanderson, or Nora Roberts, or Louis L’Amour, or Isaac Asimov…and there’s still no guarantee you’ll reach *any* level of sales success, let alone their levels.
Part of this is audience taste – we’ve all heard the stories of how Harry Potter was rejected 25 (or whatever) times before Scholastic accepted it. Part of this is a change in technology and/or accessibility – all those writers I named above reached their success through a traditional publishing system that, while it still exists, is not nearly as powerful as it once was, for example.
So books/blogs about productivity are, well, pretty useless for creatives/writers – beyond the most basic, general advice (and some of that – i.e., word count goals – is useless for some people, as the original blog post points out), which we can jot down on an index card, if we need to.
There’s a lot more going on in my head, but I wanted to share this before I head to work and start the day.
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