Or, how to set creative goals for the new year that you’ll actually keep.
I’m always happy to hit a new year, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m happier than normal to put last year behind me.
When last year dawned all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I was convinced it was going to be the year I became a productive author again. I’d finally crawled my way back from an eye injury two years prior. I was ready to set ambitious goals.
And I did what so many writers do around New Year’s: I set goals for word counts, added ambitious deadlines to my calendar, and basked in the “finish-the-book” energy.
And then my husband lost his job, and my freelance writing business became our stable source of income—and health insurance.
Suddenly, my writing goals weren’t just competing with self-distraction and a busy schedule. They were competing with the kind of weekly (sometimes daily) emotional and financial landmines that don’t care what’s on your planner.
In the most literal sense, last year did not go according to plan.
Here’s what I learned about setting goals last year: when your goals are built purely on outcomes—finish the book, hit the word count, publish on schedule—the big disruptions don’t just derail the plan. They drain your motivation and erode your sense of self-trust.
And pushing harder to reach these outcome-related goals even while your life is in chaos is a one-way ticket to burnout.
It reminds me of a meme I saw recently:
I run every day for 20 minutes. If I miss a day, I add 20 minutes to the next day. This has truly been a game-changer—tomorrow I’m supposed to run for 3 months!
The thing is, burnout isn’t a character flaw. It’s usually a systems problem—and an expectations problem. And sometimes when you have a year like last year was for me, it’s life signaling you that your foundation is full of cracks and needs some serious repair if you want to rebuild stronger.
That’s why, going into 2026, I’m setting goals differently. Not by starting with what I want to accomplish, but by starting with who I want to be as a writer and entrepreneur—and what I want those things to add to my life.
Why starting with identity + intention matters
(and how it still supports real deadlines)
Outcome goals are the ones most of us have been taught to set:
- Finish the book
- Write 1,000 words a day
- Publish two novels
- Submit a short story every month
- Launch a newsletter
- Post on social media daily
- Book 3 new clients/month
- Hit $10k/month in revenue
There’s nothing inherently wrong with those goals. In fact, outcome goals can be incredibly useful because they give you a clear target.
The problem is when the outcome is the only thing holding up the whole structure.
When the outcome is the foundation, you’re basically building your worth (and success) on a single, wobbly pillar: “Did I do it or not?”
And that’s a dangerous way to live, because outcomes are the part of the equation you control the least.
You’re a human being with a body, a family, a job, a calendar, and a life. You can’t control your health, the people around you, your job, your obligations, or what happens in the world around you—and trying to impose your will on those things is mentally unhealthy.
Setting goals rooted in identity and intention—rather than outcome—gives them a firmer foundation. A foundation that is more likely to survive contact with reality.
Identity:
is who you are when nobody is clapping for you. The version of you who keeps showing up even when the schedule is messy and the work is hard and the world is in chaos.
Intention:
is how you approach your life—with meaning, joy, purpose, curiosity, mastery, connection, freedom, steadiness, play.
When you start there, you stop asking, What should I accomplish this year? and start asking questions like:
- What kind of [writer/coach/business owner/parent/friend] do I want to be in this season of my life?
- How do I want to feel when I sit down to my work? What do I want my work to add to my days?
- What would feel meaningful by December? (Not “What do I want to accomplish?”)
Here’s the beauty of this shift: it doesn’t make you less ambitious—it ties your ambition to your actual life. It helps you set outcome-related goals that support the life you want and the person you want to be, rather than putting them at odds with each other.
Supporting your “why”
Once you’re anchored in identity and intention, the outcome goal becomes a direction, not a verdict. It stops being a moral scoreboard. It becomes a project you’re moving toward in a way that fits your life.
And it still supports deadlines—often better than a pure outcome focus does.
That’s because identity and intention goals answer the most important question deadline and outcome goals tend to ignore: Why is this worth doing in the first place?
When your “why” is clear, you’re more likely to keep coming back after a disrupted week. You’re more likely to revise the plan instead of abandoning it. You’re more likely to protect the work because it’s connected to something deeper than “I’m doing this because I have to.”
This is also where identity/intention can save you from the most common deadline trap: pushing so hard you torch the very thing you’re trying to build.
If your identity is “I’m a writer who respects my energy and keeps writing for the long haul,” then your plan for meeting a deadline looks different than if your identity is “I’m a writer who must prove I’m serious by writing 2k words a day even if it destroys my health.”
You can still do hard, focused work. You can still hit aggressive milestones. But you do it from a place of alignment instead of self-punishment.
Practically, identity and intention act like a filter. They help you set outcome goals that are actually yours—and choose the version of the deadline that fits your current season.
Example goals:
- If your intention is consistency, you might set an outcome goal (finish a draft), but your identity-based commitment is “I’m a writer who shows up three times a week.” The deadline gets supported by consistency, not frantic sprints.
- If your intention is joy and play, you might still have a deadline, but you’ll build the plan around writing sessions that feel inviting rather than punishing—because joy is the resource you’re cultivating.
- If your intention is professional momentum, you might choose a deadline that stretches you—and pair it with an identity commitment like “I’m a writer who keeps promises to myself,” which makes the weekly follow-through easier.
(Though, if you’re setting goals like that last example, be sure those promises to yourself are keepable, and treat missed deadlines like data instead of failure to be punished.)
In other words: identity and intention don’t eliminate outcome goals. They turn them into something sustainable. They give you a way to keep going when the calendar gets weird, the world gets loud, or you’re not feeling particularly inspired.
Outcomes are what you’re aiming at.
Identity and intention are how you keep your footing while you aim.
If you’re feeling lost in the weeds, I invite you to try my 5-Day Pathfinding Challenge. It’s a short email course to help you hit the pause button, reconnect with your vision, and get yourself back on track. Price is pay-what-you-will.
