Writing Goals and the Clarity that Comes From Having Them

The conversation that ensued is one that I’ve been thinking about ever since, because it reshaped the way I’ve thought about goals for years.

When Ben asked me this question about goals, I started talking to him about plans. I rambled about how I used to make elaborate outlines for how I intended to spend my year, but something always came up that I didn’t anticipate, so now I focus more on daily and weekly tasks to accomplish my goals.

To offer him an example, I said, “I have a goal to get my manuscript turned in on time, but I don’t have that written down anywhere. I just have a daily and weekly plan for how I’ll get that done.”

Ben said, “No, I’m talking about big goals. Like, ‘I want to be on the New York Times bestseller list by the time I’m thirty-five,’ or whatever your goal is. Those kinds of goals.”

I told him I didn’t believe in making those kinds of goals. My philosophy has been that a good goal is something I can do on my own. I’ve even talked about that on Go Teen Writers a few times, including here:

(Two Ways To Make Effective Writing Goals, January 5, 2015)

When talking to my husband, I even cited the widely used “SMART” goal system to back up my beliefs. In case you aren’t familiar with SMART goals, it means you should create goals that are Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Results-Focused (in a lot of places they say Relevant, but I like results-focused better), and Time-Bound. But even as I was saying this to Ben, I could see that there was nothing in any of those words that specified, “And you must be able to accomplish this with your own human strength.”

Huh.

The more I’ve reflected on this, the more I’ve realized the flaws in my thinking. As Ben said to me, “Just because JFK couldn’t put a man on the moon by himself, should he not have had that goal for our country?”

I thought about when I was a writer longing to be published. My goal was to be a traditionally published young adult author. I made choices about how to spend my time, energy, and money based on that goal. I plugged away at that goal every weekday, and sometimes on weekends too. I read books, I took classes, I networked with people, I told those around me that I wanted to be a published writer. And I wrote. I wrote every day as if it was a job I was being paid to do.

I worked as though becoming a published author was entirely up to me, even though I was acutely aware that it was not.

I knew I couldn’t control industry trends, or if an agent would like my writing voice, or what kind of mood the editor was in when my manuscript landed on their desk. I knew I needed many other people’s approval if I wanted to achieve my goal, but I worked daily as though only my efforts mattered.

I know that’s why I achieved my goal of becoming a traditionally published young adult author. Because when the right circumstances presented themselves—an agent who loved my voice, an editor who was looking for hopeful but realistic YA fiction, and a flourishing YA market—I had done the work and was ready.

When I knew what my goal was, my daily decisions became obvious. Not easy, but obvious:

• Should I watch this Gilmore Girls rerun, or should I write my next chapter?
• I’m frustrated that a few agents and editors have rejected this book. Should I try self-publishing it, or should I try to rework the first chapters and see if that helps me get more requests?
• I have an idea for an adult book. Should I write that?