It is currently 5:00 PM as I write this newsletter, and the sky outside my window is doing that early-evening thing I secretly love: getting darker much faster than I expected. I've been thinking a lot about the writing goals I want to set for next year, and more importantly, how to make them different from the ones I set in years past.

Every year I write ambitious things down, and every year life politely taps me on the shoulder and says, "Not today." But next year, I want them to actually come alive. I want a writing year that feels less like a wish and more like a rhythm.

In this issue, here is what you'll find:

A relatable writing prompt that uses examples from well-known poems and stories

A funny writer's story that every writer will recognize in their bones

A piece of timeless writing advice from a famous writer

A small reflection on the writing goals I'm thinking of for next year

And a question for you, because I want this to feel like a conversation

Let's begin.

Writing Prompt

Write about a moment when you misunderstood something small, and that misunderstanding changed the meaning of the entire scene for you. Maybe it was a gesture, a phrase, a sound, a look, or even silence. Let the mistake guide the tone.

Example from literature: In Raymond Carver's famous short story "Cathedral," the narrator completely misunderstands the blind man at first. His assumptions create distance. But the heart of the story is how that misunderstanding becomes the doorway to connection. The entire emotional arc is built on a shift in perception.

Or take Mary Oliver's poem "Wild Geese," which begins with what feels like a correction to a common misunderstanding: that we must be good, perfect, or morally polished to belong. She flips it. The misunderstanding becomes the starting point for clarity, comfort, and truth.

Your task: begin with the wrong meaning. End with the real one. Let the poem or short prose piece grow through the shift.

Funny Writer's Story

The poet Billy Collins once joked in an interview that a reader came up to him after a reading and asked if one of his poems was about "the decline of Western civilization." Collins said he had actually written it about a dog. Writers often imagine they are being extremely clear, only to learn that readers have packed their own luggage and taken the poem on an entirely different trip.

Somewhere tonight, a writer is typing a deeply emotional scene only to realize the character's name autocorrected to something ridiculous halfway through. It happens to all of us. Writing is at least 40 percent talent, 20 percent courage, and 40 percent realizing your draft makes no sense without knowing why.

Writing Advice from a Famous Writer

Advice from Zadie Smith: "When you finish your first draft, put the manuscript away for as long as you can." She shared this in an essay for The Guardian, explaining that distance is a form of clarity. When you're too close to your own writing, everything feels right. Or everything feels wrong. But both extremes lie.

When you return to the draft after time away, you finally see what is actually on the page instead of what you hoped was there. That is the beginning of true revision.

Zadie Smith Distance is Clarity Writing Meme

What I'm Thinking About: Writing Goals for Next Year

These are not final. They're rough, quiet thoughts I'm letting breathe.

  1. To write smaller but more consistent pieces instead of waiting for inspiration to hand me something large and luminous.

  2. To submit more, even when I am certain the piece is not perfect enough. Perfection has already stolen too many opportunities.

  3. To read more slowly. Not more books, just slower books.

  4. To write one poem every week, even if some of them never see daylight.

  5. To experiment with forms I've always avoided because they intimidated me.

I have time to refine these goals. But naming them, even casually, makes them feel more possible.

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Calls for Submissions

Looking for speculative stories with a strong humor element, similar to Douglas Adams-style funny sci-fi and fantasy. Open to quality flash and experimental forms as long as they are genuinely funny, not just a long setup for a single pun. Length: 500 to 8,000 words. Pay: $0.12 per word. Reading period: 5–12 December 2025.

Poems about night in all its moods: spooky, comforting, tender, or unsettling. They want poems that capture what nighttime means to you once the lights go off and the dark enters you. Send up to 3 poems. Deadline: 15 December 2025. Pay: $50.

A magazine of speculative fiction, poetry, and one essay per issue, all starring animals as protagonists or viewpoint characters. They want deep, sensory stories about animal cultures and myths, and they welcome underrepresented voices and translations. Length: 1,000 to 5,000 words for fiction (prefer 3,000–4,000), up to 5 poems, and 1,000–2,500 words for essays. Deadline: 15 December 2025. Pay: $0.08 per word for fiction, $50 for poetry, and $100 for essays.

Seeking poetry, short fiction under 1,000 words, personal essays, cultural commentary, art, handmade work, and music for the theme The Great Unknown. They want lively, engaging work that fits the theme and are open to emerging writers. Word limits: up to 2,000 for essays or commentary, under 1,000 for fiction, up to 5 poems. Deadline: 15 December 2025.

Nonfiction travel writing about a true moment of human connection on the road. Focus on a specific encounter that reveals something real about a place and its people, beyond the tourist trail. Length: 1,500–1,800 words. Prize: up to $300 for the winner, publication for winner and runners-up. Deadline: 10 December 2025.

A Question for You

What is one writing habit you want to let go of this year, and what is one writing habit you want to build next year?

I'd genuinely love to know.

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