My life goals typically look like this:
- Acquire matching socks.
- Acquire fingerless gloves.
- Buy a stupid mango and actually eat it instead of forgetting it exists and throwing it away two weeks too late.
- Acquire fresh produce and cook a meal. It’s been a while, and I’ve gotten lazy at this.
- Accomplish list of things required to maintain the frimbly facade of being an adult (including, not limited to: go to bank, schedule ophthalmologist appointment, research cars, probably call internet company?)
Basically, my lists are now-oriented. I’m not a big fan of Bucket Lists or Life Goals. Why? Because I want attainable goals that I know I can accomplish. I want to dangle the cookie just within reach, because then I’ll fight for it. I don’t want to hang the cookie on a distant star in outer space where I can only see it through a very expensive telescope that I can’t afford.
There’s a metaphor in there, I promise.
Anyway, my goal lists are always concrete and reasonable. This goes for things like basic human functions, and larger scale goals that are linked to my passions.
So when I set the goal as a wee child to publish a book, I knew I had a lifetime to do it. It was my cookie in the stars. But as I grew up, I broke that goal down into cookie-on-a-string tasks. Here’s a brief list of goals I set:
- Write 100 poems and 100 short stories during high school.
- When, among one of those stories, a premise had enough promise to potentially be a longer story, I set the goal of writing a novel.
- I set the goal of finishing it while I was in high school. Two years later, as my high school graduation neared, I finished it with less than a week to spare.
- My first year at college, I set the goal of writing my first NaNoWriMo book during my first year of college, where I wrote 12,000 words on the first day, and I finished the book by that January.
- I set a goal to revise my first book and write my first query letter.
- Then I read the entire Query Shark archives to actually learn what a query letter is supposed to look like.
- I set the goal of researching and querying 10 agents.
- After I graduated college, I had written three books, and I gave my first manuscript another pass on revisions.
- Then I gave myself an end-of-year goal: apply to grad school for creative writing or get a job. I got a job as a technical writer three months out of college (which I love).
- Instead of moving on, though, I entered Pitch Wars 2015 on the last day of submissions. I’ve talked a lot about my Pitch Wars experience here (and feel free to ask questions about it here), but a hop, skip, and boat ride away, I got multiple offers from agents. Then I got multiple offers from publishing houses. Then, suddenly, I had a book deal for two NAMELESS books.
- But my goals didn’t stop there. Now, my goals have been things like:
- Cut the opening 100 pages to 50 pages.
- Write my first outline (it ended up being 13 pages long!) to guide my revisions.
- Write an outline for book 2.
- Do line edits for a friend’s book (which I’ve never successfully done before) ((and guys, she’s awesome))
Things are crazy. This place I’ve found myself is crazy. Setting goals makes it seem less crazy and stressful and makes it seem possible. It makes it achievable.
At times, it’s incomprehensibly and phenomenally lightning fast. Sometimes it trudges like dregs of unmixed hot cocoa: delightful and painfully out of reach. Sometimes its simplicity is astoundingly sharp.
Sometimes I get to write blog posts about the hundreds of tiny steps and goals, the relentless and torturous ambition, and the unending thrill of finally being so close to my sky-cookie that I can taste it.
And guys? It tastes like starlight.*