 | THREE END OF YEAR PRACTICES FOR INVITING IN NEW IDEAS & DREAMS Before you begin, it might be nice to consciously find an easily reachable end point on a project. Maybe finish a paragraph, maybe take 15-30 minutes to outline through the end of a chapter or section or book. Do this, and then tell yourself, out loud if you need to: This will be there for me in January. It's ok if I don't have the focus for it now.
1. The 13.
Here's a beautiful reel by @Thatglasgowwitch describing this.
First, you write 13 things you want to see happen next year, each on a different piece of paper
Then you burn 12 of them. The idea is that the world/universe/etc will take care of those, if they're meant for you. The 13th is your responsibility, yours to focus on in 2026 with all your energy. I love this practice because it combines visioning, surrender, and focus. You'll start 2026 with one clear vision.
2. The Letter
This is a variation on a practice I originally got from, I believe, Pat Schneider. I recommend this exercise a lot to writers/artists who are working on a text that involves a lot of grief, or sadness, or ghosts. Here's my version:
Instead of working on your project, you will write a letter. If possible, by hand.
You will address it to any number of people from any these categories:
a) ancestors. Includes: queer ancestors, artistic ancestors, transcestors, familial or spiritual or affiliative ancestors of any sort, you don't even need their names;
b) artists in whose lineage or community you are working (alive or dead);
c) people you love, especially people who love you back, also alive or dead; [
d) you can add people whose work you do not love, people who have narrowed your world, only if this works for you. Pettiness is a form of resilience].
You will tell them about what you are working on as an artist (eg, the novel you're writing) and why you are doing it. You can tell them about any areas of difficulty. You will ask for help in the new year. It doesn't have to be a long letter, it can be a postcard. Set it on your altar or desk. And Bob's your uncle {Fanny's your aunt/ River's your untie}.
3. Going to Print
So this one is going to sound terribly obvious, but it's highly effective. The goal is to print out your project - manuscript, etc. Or find another way, any other way, to convert the form of your project (eg, if you're exclusively digital, PDF it). Bonus. Give it an epigraph, something of a cover, get it bound at a copy shop as a present to you. The goal is to be able to hold something you made this year, and remove it from your dirty tinkering hands until the new year. Set it somewhere you can gaze at it longingly until January 2nd or so. WANT IT. Build tension. Yes, you can pet it. No, you can't write in it, you heathen, unless you write in your other books, and then only to that very same extent, like maybe you draw a heart next to a sentence.
Extra Credit/Alternative: If you weren't working on a longer form project this year, or if you were working on several different projects, THEN list 12 things you are proud of from this year, format it beautifully, and print that.
BONUS: Capture Unformed Hunches.
Open notebooks always. Allow in fragments, wishes, desires, dreams, drawings, unformed things.
Director Peter Brooks said: everything I've ever done began with an unformed hunch. These hunches have included things like: a shade of yellow, a line, a bar of music, just a feeling.
You're not out here looking for production calendars, or even seeds. Your job, our job, as much as we can, is to create the spaciousness between things. Happy solstice season, loves. We're back in January. If you need a place to come write and make art in community, check out Voyage, and if you know someone who needs a space like this, please do send them my way. |
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