On beginnings and endings

More than halfway through January, I finally finished filling my last journal. The next day, I sat down to write the first entry in my new one, feeling behind and like I was doing it wrong because I didn’t have the literal fresh start of a new notebook align perfectly with the metaphorical one of the new year.

“There’s something appropriate about the delay, though,” I wrote, “or at least it’s on brand. I rarely feel that I’m on a timetable that lines up with how the world around me runs. I don’t think this is necessarily a flaw, though. The world moves so much by unexamined expectations instead of intentionality—a weakness, not a strength.”

I go on to remind myself that January hardly makes sense for making big changes, anyway. We’d all be better served to learn from the natural world, which in the northern hemisphere is resting and recovering, lying fallow between growing seasons. Instead of a season of change, I see winter (and the new year) as an invitation for reflection and introspection, taking stock and making plans, but not necessarily for executing them. A time of beginnings and endings, but one that favors presence and observation over action.

Subscribe now

So, that’s how I’m spending my winter: mulling over my life like an editor, deciding what’s working and what to leave behind me. Instead of trying to cudgel myself into producing right now, I’m focusing on making micro-adjustments to my life in support of the creative over-flow that always happens for me in the spring. Unlike the paperwhites that I planted after Christmas, I can’t force myself to bloom out of season, and I’ve already missed too much of my life by trying, thanks.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have big plans for what I want to create and do this year; it just means I’m adjusting my pace and expectations for the season I’m in. So, slowly, and as I have the creative force, I’m setting myself up for a few projects:

• I finished my 300 Haiku project in December, and this month I’ve focused on gently refining it and preparing it for publication. (Substack exclusive intel: pub day for 300 Haiku is set for March 17, 2026! Preorders open soon!)

• Poetry will continue to be a big part of my writing this year, and I’m returning to the 5-minute Poetry Project as a way to build up another body of work from which to create a sister collection to Some Days Are Sandstone.

• The biggest project for this year, though, is the middle grade novel I began back in 2024 that is languishing in my drafts. I’m motivated by one big thing: I want to write this while my children are still young.

• I also have nebulous desires to be bolder in submitting my poetry for publication, as well as posting more here on Substack. Most of my posting energy went to Instagram last year, and I’d like to change that this year. Neither of these are formed enough to call them plans, just something else I’d like to prioritize.

Oh, and in case you’re curious about specifics, a couple of those micro-adjustments I mentioned earlier include shifting my sleep schedule earlier on both ends to give me margin for journaling and writing in the morning, as well as setting up better screen-time controls on my phone to help me be more intentional about how much time I’m giving to my apps. What about you? Do you set New Year’s resolutions/intentions/goals, and if so, what are you working toward?

One last update: over the Christmas break, we also learned of another ending on its way—my writing companion of 17 years (my cat, Cricket) was diagnosed with cancer and has begun the kitty version of hospice. We don’t know how much longer we’ll get to enjoy our Ancient Baby™ but are making the most of it while she’s here with so many extra snuggles.