How to Enjoy Your Writing Life in 2025

On constructively framing your goals for the year

Dear friends,

Self-reflection is paramount to the writing process, though it’s less sexy sounding than “inspiration” or “writing retreats.” January is an excellent time to set writing goals for the year. I highly recommend setting aside an hour to watch my guided breakthrough exercise for dissolving your writing blocks if you’re a paid subscriber, but if you’re not, the below is designed to help you identify and articulate what will best serve you this year and check in on what psychic space your writing life occupies.

Writing Literary Resolutions:

According to recent surveys, about 38.5% of Americans make resolutions and only 9% feel that they were successful by the end of the year. Here’s the thing: there are neuroscientific reasons why these resolutions fail, mostly relating to the science behind habit formation. If you’re interested in reading more about this, I highly recommend the book Atomic Habits by James Clear (I wrote a cheatsheet for what writers can apply from the book here).

Why should you write your own writing resolutions for 2025? Well, you “shouldn’t,” but if the idea appeals to you now, tomorrow evening, or at any point throughout the year, please come back to this post.

I’ll add that, while it’s lovely to meander down a highway without a clear destination, having a roadmap with stops and attractions you’d like to visit along the way can be extremely helpful. Writing is likely only one part of your layered and multifaceted life, so setting aside time to actively reflect on how it co-exists with the other parts—and how you’d like to nurture and grow this practice this coming year—is wise. It’s quite literally why I called my writing platform Conscious Writers Collective, because I recognized how much our conscious awareness helps us get the most out of our unconscious, intuitive and creative practice when we sit down to write.

And if you agree, read on…

I resolve to:

1. Get clear on what you actually want

What are your goals for your writing life in 2025? Do you have clear language for these goals, or is it a collection of vague statements such as “write more” and “submit to more magazines,” which is the non-writers resolution equivalent of “workout more” and “eat healthier.” Reader: I haven’t been to the gym since 2019. Why? Because I continually resolve to “workout more” without including any actionable steps.

Working in creative disciplines with colleagues named Calliope, Clio, Erato (the nine muses), it can be easy to forget that we report to a boss, and that boss isn’t inspiration but ourselves. Now would be a good time to practice following your own instructions, but you first need to decide on those instructions. Take inventory. Be specific. Let “write more” become “wake up early one morning a week to write.” Don’t fall into the trap of not setting goals because you worry you won’t meet them and feel discouraged. Failing ahead of time isn’t going to help. Write three goals, and report for writerly duty.

2. Find, build, and nurture connections and community

Have you made a writer acquaintance over Twitter, on a forum, or in real life? Reach out and ask if they might like to swap work with you this year. Set a date. Has a writer’s work meant a great deal to you? Let them know. Why? Not only because those messages make a writer’s day, but because you will remind yourself of your relationship to what Jean Rhys called “the huge lake”: “All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. And then there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake.” You are part of a community that has fed the lake over centuries. Honor your role and experience as a reader this year.

3. Enjoy - actually enjoy - writing

For some of you, it may be some time since you sat down and felt a sense of ease and flow as you typed away. And, if so, I suggest you figure out why that is.

Do you have first draft syndrome, where the clumsiness of the first draft sends you into a state of despair? (Rx: read Bishop’s 18 drafts of “One Art” to be reminded that early drafts are often plodding things.) Are you anticipating rejection? Is this not the right project for the moment? Are you insisting too much on work that needs time to sit? Make it a priority to find a way back into the pleasure of writing.

I resolve not to:

1. Make needless comparisons and judgements

Here’s the truth about envy, judgement, and comparisons: the other person feels none of the bitterness, defeat, and ire you feel. You—exclusively you—feel the discomfort, and it’s a slow poison you mix with your own particular brand of injustice and insecurity, then self-administer.

At various misguided moments, we can come to believe that envy is a motivator. If that were true, feeling it just once would do the trick to skyrocket us into productivity and success. More often what happens is this: we feel discouraged, then immediately seek to buffer the feeling. Judgement, Netflix, potato chips: all effective buffers. None of these, however, is a catalyst for growth, development, or change. None is half as powerful as reading a book, sitting with a draft, or going for a walk.

You alone can make a conscious effort to ease yourself of these unnecessary feelings in 2025. How? By noticing them and calling them what they are. Then, by diffusing them by focusing on yourself. What is my envy/comparison/jealousy telling me about what I want? And how can I take the step towards what I want, instead of sitting here paralyzed by indignation, elbow deep in a bag of Fiesta Doritos?

2. Make sweeping negative generalizations

A bit like the above, speaking critically of contemporary writers, MFAs, styles and trends in writing isn’t likely to effectuate the kind of change you want, nor is it likely to provide the best inner fuel for you to meet your own goals (do you even know what those goals are?). Do write a thoughtful op-ed on the state of something that matters to you. Do research, speak to others, and seek out ways to bring about systemic change where it is needed. But don’t fall into the trap of seeing everything through the lens of what is lacked. There is a way of leveraging what is good, what does work, to change what doesn’t.

3. Take rejections personally

Here’s the thing: in the last year, I have been rejected by journals that previously accepted my work. I could easily think: these new poems aren’t as good as my old poems, or that my past acceptances were a fluke. I could interpret those rejections as being a measure of my merit as a writer. Or, I could remember the statistics behind these submissions. I could remember how I, in serving as a reader or judge, have felt constricted by only being able to choose a handful of works from a much larger pool. I can remember my teachers, who are much further along in their publishing journeys than I am, sharing their own rejection stories with me.

You are responsible for the movie reel in your head. You can pair a rejection scene with upbeat, energetic music that shows the protagonist as unflappable, hard at work at what they love, or you can pair it with interludes from a grim historical drama. It’s up to you, but it is up to you. You won’t always reframe disappointment quickly or easily, but the only way to get better at is to change your factory settings from I am a reject to this writing wasn’t right for this issue.

Wishing you all a productive and happy 2025. Please let me know what resonated with you in the comments—I’m happy to chat further about your particular journey.

xM

✨ CWC Poetry enrollment is now OPEN. Apart from regular meetings with me, our guest teachers in 2025 will include poets Jorie Graham, Jane Hirshfield, Nicole Sealey, Maggie Millner, Chen Chen, Liz Berry, Kimiko Hahn, Sarah Ghazal Ali, among others. Join CWC Poetry here. (Please note that spots are limited; doors close when we reach our usual monthly quota for new members). ✨