I’ve been here the entirety of ’19. Actually, I’ve been here since before Christmas.


I’m usually a pretty quick write. Usually. But I’ve actually been working on this particular book since late ’17. In fits and spurts, sure. And by this point, I’m really down to line edits. But still. 2017.

Actually, looking at my publishing plans for ’19, I’m going to be doing a ton of revision. Reworking half-done manuscripts written, similarly, in fits and spurts.

I feel like the past few years have been a real period of growth. I mean, anyone involved in a creative pursuit is constantly growing. You have to. But these past few years have involved more exponential growth, if that makes sense. To a great extent, that’s due to my work in the indie market. I’ll be posting more about the lessons learned throughout ’19.

But for now…

It’s back into that revision cave for me.


So many blog posts are all about what writers have already figured out. They’re tips and tricks that have been dug out through a (frequently long) period of trial and error.

This time around, I thought I might disclose something I’m working on–something I’m not even close to figuring out:

How to manage daily expectations.

I’m a big believer in setting goals. I know in my mind where I’d like to be with a current project by, say, the end of the week. And I know how many words I need to write or chapters I need to revise, etc. in order to meet those goals.

But when I fall short one day? I kind of beat myself up.

What keeps me from meeting certain goals is never stupid, either. It’s not like I’m binge-watching TV or playing solitaire. Usually, it’s because–well–life happens. As it inevitably does. I go to mow the lawn and the battery’s dead (which means I’m now making an extra shopping trip). It’s because my aging dog has an upset stomach. Or the roof is leaking. Or I’m figuring estimated taxes. Or my brother needs me to head on a buying trip for his business.

Or, or, or…

I mean, I know it’s not JUST about writing. Life has to be lived. And not just a chore-filled life, either. A life in which you eat ice cream and roll down the windows and laugh until your sides ache. A life in which you meet new people and talk to old friends. A life in which you get sunburned and maybe even scrape an elbow or two because you’re still, even now, trying new things.

But I can’t help it. I have a hard time NOT beating myself up for goals not met.

Any pointers anyone might have on the subject?