Category: Challenges

2025 WRITING GOALS

Bits of Today’s Morning Pages

It’s the 8th of January. I have written nothing this year. So, what’s the plan?

I opened my memoir and edited the first few chapters. I discovered two grammatical errors. Maybe I’ll rewrite it this year. Or will I? Maybe I’ll just copyedit and publish. A couple of days later I reconsidered. Why publish? My writing group thinks I should. Not just my critique group, but others as well. Fear of failure perhaps? Maybe fear of people judging me or my family for the way we lived. Embarrassment maybe.

Why not have a little fun with writing instead? I enjoy little challenges, having completed at least two last year. October and December 50 word stories and then archiving them on Herman and Myrtle website. Mostly I try to be funny, but many times I’m just sarcastic. But I enjoy the challenge.

So what does this mean for 2025 goals? Do what others suggest or do what I enjoy?

Some ideas: Keep my blogs up to date by doing one or more challenges each week. Why weekly? Is that too much to expect? After all, it’s been eight days and I haven’t made a blog entry yet. What’s my excuse? Time? I only have so many hours in a day. I work. I keep chickens and cats happy. Once in a while I cook, grocery shop or clean house, do some laundry or yard work (not so much in winter).

I must confess. Addiction comes into play here. I play online games. There. I have admitted it and now I am taking a step one approach and admitting gaming has become an obsession and I have no control over it. It started with playing a little solitaire while watching TV. Then I found out I could make money. In less than a week I earned a whopping $5.89. That’s more than I earn writing. It becomes a habit and next thing you know, you get nothing else done. Delete the games. Turn off the TV. Write. Sounds simple enough, but then that huge component of addiction-the need to continue what we think is giving us pleasure only to discover it has replaced something we value and enjoy. There’s no way to set limits except to stop. Cold turkey-Delete the games. Turn off the TV. Write.

Let’s go back to goals, since that’s what I’m supposed to accomplish.
Post something to one of my blogs every week or Post something on each blog once a week. What’s so hard about either of these choices?

LATER ON, THE SAME DAY: THE GOALS

HERMAN AND MYRTLE (An inconsistent archive of things I post to Instagram and/or Facebook, usually the result of following some challenge or prompt I find while surfing the internet. Sometimes a rant, often triggered by mishaps or remarkable happenings between this author and her poor hubby.) Fifty words a day, 6 word stories, 100 word stories, pictures, cartoons, drawings. Why? Because Herman is 80, Myrtle is 75, and life is too short not to see the humor (or sarcasm) in these golden years.

GOAL: At least two posts per month

WITTBITS (Just check the tags in the right-hand column. It’s a conglomeration of observations that make their way to my keyboard with an occasional spark of wisdom.)

GOAL: At least one post per month

CHALLENGES: Support other authors and bloggers by participating in their challenges, writing to their prompt, posting the resource, and reciprocating.

GOAL: At least one per month.

That’s it. What are your writing goals?

#Writetober2024

Herman and Myrtle have returned… at least for the month of October. Credits to @RO.Robinson.Writes on Instagram for presenting this challenge, Bitmoji for the Herman & Myrtle emojis, and AI art created at NightCafe. The object of this challenge is to use the word of the day in a #50wordfiction story. Flip through the month below – it’s more or less the continuing saga of #hermanandmyrtle (old couple that have been married for 50 some years) and their chickens (Ginger & Cheeka) and cats (Trumpette and Laia). There are no guarantees for consistent #hermanandmyrtle stories in the future, but if you’re interested, please follow @mzbull on Instagram. Although #hermanandmyrtle may resemble the author and her husband, only close friends will know when to sound the alarm.

Balance

The labyrinth outside my door calls me. To the untrained eye, perhaps it is just a scattering of rocks. But to me, it’s the place I go to meditate. Or sometimes, just to walk. It isn’t a traditional seven circuit labyrinth. It’s what fits in my yard. It doesn’t matter that it is only four circles with four turns. It serves its purpose. 

On the first day of the shelter in place order I placed fourteen small stones at the entrance of the labyrinth, one to carry each day. I’d walk the first thing in the morning, pick up one stone, quietly observe the new day and all its twists and turns, and then place the stone into the center.

As we neared the end of our fourteen day quarantine, we learned it wasn’t over yet. The virus had run rampant and there was a new order. A month at least. I’d need a bigger pile of stones. And not just one for each day. If I were to maintain any sense of peace, I’d need to do a lot more journeys through this maze.

 My days began with the daily walk. As time went on, whenever there was something I needed to ponder, or when I felt restless or angry or sad, I’d take my emotions to that peaceful place. Each time I picked up one small stone at the entrance. I’d feel the weight of the stone. The coolness or warmth. The shape.

And when I got to the center of the labyrinth, I placed that small stone on one of the larger rocks. Each day I started a new stack. At the end of the day I could look at those cairns and remember each walk, the thoughts that crossed my mind, the weight of each rock left behind and the lighter journey out. Sometimes there was only only one small pebble. On other days maybe five or six balanced precariously one on top of another. I began to realize, the taller the stack, the more balanced I felt.

There would be 83 towers in that center now if nature had let them be but not all towers are built on a strong foundation. Some are built with careful thought and practice, balanced with precision. They fall easily, blown over by a gentle wind. Others are sturdy stones, flat ones, the ones that are simple to stack. The mass of stones that have fallen, lie in rubble. That is not destruction. It is a reminder that I can build a dream but I’m not in charge of the outcome. 

It’s all about balance.