I’m keeping it simple with my New Year’s resolution for 2023. It’s just two words:
Do Less.
I am a goals person, a maker of to-do lists, a planner, a producer. I’m not going to stop setting goals or writing lists, but I’ve realized that while 2022 was a wonderful year in many ways, I too often got caught up in doing and producing and didn’t enjoy the moment. I would tell myself “I can relax after X happens” and then I wouldn’t be able to celebrate the accomplishment or milestone before running off to do the next thing. I never felt as if I was “doing enough,” but I didn’t have a definition of what “enough” would be. Looking back, I can see that I did a lot in 2022:
I completed Julia Cameron’s Walking in This World creativity course, a follow-up to The Artist’s Way.
I did the Slow Novel Lab, author Nina LaCour’s online writing workshop, something that’s been a goal of mine for the last two or three years (Note: I HIGHLY recommend this workshop if you’re a novelist working on a first draft or deep into revising right now).
I revised, queried, and received (kind and encouraging!) feedback on one novel, then wrote first drafts of two more novels.
I started skating again! I took a Theatre on Ice class, then started lessons with a figure skating coach.
I created a new season of my book podcast, Reading Like an Adult, documenting a year of the reading life and my very first attempt at keeping a reading journal.
I read ALL the “big books” from this summer’s blockbuster slate of new releases and created a two-part summer reading guide that I’m proud of.
I wanted to list these accomplishments because one facet of my “Do Less” resolution is knowing I need to celebrate more. I want to find joy in each step of my creative work instead of instantly moving on to the next thing. I need to stop promising myself that I can relax once X Future Thing is accomplished and actually … give myself time to rest.
One small, practical, concrete way I’m planning to give myself that space both to celebrate and to rest is with daily journaling. I have journals going back to age 14, but I’ve never been able to stick with a daily journaling habit. What I like to do is make lists, so I’ve decided to lean into this tendency and let my daily journaling be as list-y as it needs to be. I’ve started with writing a list of accomplishments and milestones from 2022, a way to celebrate as well as to preserve the memories I want to keep.
The second part of my two-word New Year’s resolution is the need to pause. I spent too much of 2022 being pulled along in the current of my own life and feeling as if everything would fall apart if I didn’t complete my to-do list that day. I can’t live with the frantic feeling I’ve created for myself anymore.
Here are a few practical ways I’m planning to do less and give myself time to pause:
Do my best to do the task that’s bothering me and will only take 5-10 minutes to complete instead of putting it off for several weeks or months and letting it bug me every day. (Note: This is easier said than done! WHY is it SO hard sometimes to just Do The Thing? I will notice a messy corner at home that bothers me, and instead of taking 10 minutes or so to fix it, I’ll tell myself I “don’t have time” and I’ll “do it later.” I’m SO glad 2023 Jordan will absolutely never do this again.)
Build in transition time. That frantic feeling tends to happen when I’m jumping from one task to the next without any time in between to process what just happened and think about what I need to do next. To give one example: I only have a certain amount of time to write, but I also can’t immediately jump into the rest of the day when my writing timer goes off. I need to work on building in a few minutes after writing to come out of my story and transition back into the real world.
Read fewer books. I … have made some version of this resolution every year for the past several years. I only have so much time, and I want to read books that are the most meaningful / needed / inspiring for me in the time that I have. I resolve to pick up fewer books, then I get lured by the new shiny buzzy or distracted by my Goodreads challenge and I find myself drowning in books again. But thanks to my book podcast this year, I’ve learned a lot about what I need for my reading life, and I’ve given myself some Big Reading Goals for 2023 that will give me some gentle structure and not let me attempt to read 100 books in a calendar year.
The final part of my Do Less resolution is the most fun. I want to follow the excitement. Too often, I want to go down a rabbit hole of research or watch a specific movie or try a new TV series or go on an artist date or write a fun exploratory newsletter draft that I’m not sure will work or not and then instead of actually doing it, I make a plan. I put it on a list, and I tell myself it will happen “when I have time,” and then I never actually get around to it. By the time I think I “have time” for the fun thing because I’ve checked an arbitrary number of items off my list(s), I’m not excited in the same way anymore.
In 2023, I want to learn to tell myself Yes, you have time. Take two hours to watch that movie even if it feels like a ridiculously decadent thing to do. Listen to new music that might or might not be your jam even if it feels as if putting on a podcast about writing would be more beneficial. Scribble that newsletter draft for 20 minutes and see what happens.
Some of the most fun moments in 2022 were things I was “too busy” for. I forced myself to sit down and start watching the Winter Olympics because I couldn’t let another one go past me unnoticed, and now looking back, one of my favorite 2022 memories is persuading my person to watch a ridiculous amount of figure skating with me and seeing Nathan Chen win gold.
When the Modern Mrs. Darcy Book Club announced a virtual “reading weekend,” I didn’t think I had time, but I showed up for the opening Zoom event anyway and got inspired. I carved out time to read Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin with plenty of snacks at my kitchen counter, and it’s probably my favorite reading memory of all the reading I did in 2022. When my church held a women’s weekend retreat, I didn’t think I had time, and I signed up at the last minute; I had no idea that I would have a moment of prayerful clarity at the retreat that I’m carrying into 2023 with me.
I can’t imagine not having these moments from the last year. Each of them is a reminder that I don’t want to let the special things — big or small — pass me by because I’m stressed about daily to-do list items that I will never remember.
If you have (a) New Year’s resolution(s) that you’d like to share, please feel free to send them my way. Here’s to 2023!
I love this! I'll have to take some time to think about mine.