Reposted from Story Storm 2025, where Shari was a guest blogger this January.
For so many of us, January represents an opportunity to reset. We make all kinds of promises to ourselves: I’m going to get more sleep. I’m going to eat more vegetables. I’m going to read more books. I’m going to finish that manuscript that’s been sitting on my desk for two years.
Of course, if you are one of those people who can make such resolutions and keep them, I applaud you.
I, however, am not such a person.
I am the person who joined a different gym every new January, declaring that this would be the year that I would really commit to getting healthy. But while the gyms changed, the outcome was always the same. I’d work out regularly for three months, and then I’d stop. A kid would get sick. I’d get sick … or tired. I’d have too much work that day. It might be raining outside, and no one wants to work out wet. Right?
One day I met a new neighbor at the dog park, and we hit it off immediately. We both loved the arts. We both loved our dogs. Our girls went to the same high school. We commiserated and laughed over our shared lack of executive function in our own lives. Since neither of our dogs were actually well behaved at the dog park, we decided that we would walk together twice a week, up and down the hills of Brookline, MA.
We did. For years. Those regular walks inspired me to set up similar walking dates with other friends. I realized that not only did I enjoy these power walks, but they were creating a structure in my week that allowed me to accomplish even more than I’d imagined.
I know, I know … Why is she talking about exercise during Storystorm?
I learned something really important from having an exercise buddy. I am someone who is more accountable to others than I am to myself–about some things at least. I really struggle to put aside and protect time for me— for the things I love and the things I NEED to do. While I have called myself a writer since the mid-1990s, you will not be surprised when I tell you there were many, many years when this writer simply did not write. I took care of kids. I did laundry. I grocery shopped. I worked. I picked up the phone every time my parents, my in-laws, or friends called during my writing time. I skipped writing time because I answered work emails or because I was on social media.
I could beat myself up about my lack of discipline. I’d be lying if I said I never did over the course of all those years. But knowing yourself and knowing what you need to create a thriving writing practice is empowering.
I need accountability.
When I have accountability, I can accomplish exciting things.
When I began Write Now!, a free, online writing accountability group for Whale Rock Workshops, I created it for myself as much as for others. I know so many writers who struggle to get in the chair when life pulls them in a million different directions.
We run our accountability groups for two and a half hours, three times a week. Everyone takes turns setting a goal for the day. We write quietly, side-by-side, and then we come back together to check out at the end.
I have been more focused on my writing in the past 4 years than I was in the previous 15. Our community of writers keeps one another accountable. We are connected. We root and cheer each other along whether a writer is completing a draft or whether a writer feels despondent over a rejection. We show up because we know there are people counting on us to be there. Counting on us to do the work so that they can do the work, too.
So as January 2025’s Story Storm comes to an end, I congratulate you. You have just participated in a month-long idea generation practice with two thousand of your fellow children’s writer friends. You have ideas with which to go forth and create.
Now, I encourage you to ask yourself what you need to maintain this momentum as you move into February. What kind of scaffolding do you need to put in place for yourself? If it is accountability you seek, find a friend or join a group like Write Now!. Block the time you need in your calendar, make it non-negotiable, and hold yourself and your writing buddy (ies) accountable.
It works. I promise.
Happy writing.
