#97. Maintaining Positivity Around Your Goals and Celebrating Your Writing Achievements - Launch into 2026!

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Hello imaginative people. I’m Anna Tizard, this is episode 97 of Brainstoryum, and a happy new year to you!
 
I hope you’ve had a great break over Christmas, and that maybe, just maybe, your break isn’t quite over yet. I’m recording this on new year’s eve, so I am still in the deeps of “betwixtmas”: I do love the in-between nature of this period, if you can get the time off work, I think it must be the most in-between-y time there is. The days of the week start to lose their distinctiveness; you might wake up feeling unsure about which day it is. You plan according to what you want or need to do, not dependent on what weekday it is; or you don’t plan at all and allow yourself to drift a little bit. Possibly in your pyjamas. But who cares, it’s Betwixtmas!
 
And it’s usually true that the writing time we carve out for ourselves has to be, by its nature, in between other things. So I’m a big fan of the in-between. Inspiration often opens up in snatched moments, between doing other things; ideas can sneak out of tight spaces, and creativity often blossoms when you give it restricted space to work with; like a challenging writing prompt, for example. Given a bit of tightness, we tend to find new ways to expand. (And I am not talking about my waistband. Well, maybe I am slightly—we have just had Christmas!)
 
Anyway, while you may already know that I’m not a big advocate of setting goals during Betwixtmas (if you’re using it to relax and recuperate) we are now in the new year, and you might, if you’re like me, have already decided a while ago what you plan to do in 2026. My main goal is finishing, editing and publishing book 4 in my series, The Book of Exquisite Corpse, on the theme of Weird Creatures: by or during summer (if that does leave enough time for a professional edit, I hope so). It began as a collection of short stories, inspired by writing prompts on this show, but it has developed into something more than a collection. I will be sharing some updates on this in upcoming shows and I am trying to contain my excitement on this, so please stayed tuned. I need to tell you about it soon!
 
But, having talked previously about how I have a tendency towards burnout, and pushing myself too hard, I wondered if it might be useful—not just for me—to reflect on ways in which we can celebrate our achievements along the way. They say success is an attitude. It’s one thing having goals, to help you focus on what you want to achieve. But how easy it is to get bogged down as time passes. Creativity doesn’t necessarily thrive on a tick-box list, and sometimes, being too strict with ourselves can shut our inspiration down.
 
How can we keep up that playful, buoyant attitude about our WIP, and prevent ourselves from feeling stuck in a tunnel when the going gets tough?
 
One excellent habit to keep is, of course, Brainstoryum. Of course I’m going to say that! But seriously, taking regular, brief moments out of a longer work in progress to practise imagining, to test out new ideas, to dwell in that purely playful space and to share the joy of being creative with other people: this really helps me hit the “restart” button on my creativity, so I can come back to my WIP with a refreshed perspective—and sometimes new ideas to add to it. And of course, if your goal is to write short stories or poems, then this may be all you need; this is an all-in-one solution, and maybe you will never get fatigued!
 
But another great way to keep things fresh, which is entirely focussed on your goals, no matter what they are, is to find a way to celebrate each small step along the way. That might be weekly or daily achievements.
 
Shortly after I went to Fantasy Con in early November—which kind of felt like a fresh start for me, a boost that was sort of like my own, writerly new year—I started writing weekly goals in a small logbook. Each page was entitled with my goals for that week, and then underneath it I wrote what I actually did. After a few weeks, I gave up on the goals part—it just felt too much like micromanagement to me. I know what I’m trying to achieve, as my overall goal, and most of my writing slots are dedicated to getting there. I might plan to work on a particular scene or chapter in one week, but when I come to sit down, it might turn out to be a different section entirely that suddenly inspires me. I’ve learned from experience it is often better to go with your instincts and write the part that is “speaking” to you in that moment, rather than just bulldoze through a chapter that hasn’t (yet) grabbed you in that way. How true this may be for you will depend on how your brain works: it’s more likely to apply to you if you have a tendency to be a bit relentless, like me, and very disciplined. If you’re a procrastinator, you might need to be wary in case you have a tendency to avoid knuckling down; it’s just a different set of problems.
 
But the logbook became quite a useful tool for me in simply recording what I had done in each week. It also encouraged me to be more “sneaky” about slipping in extra writing slots in the odd lunchtime, the odd bus journey… partly because my logbook is a way for me to keep tabs on Brainstoryum stuff, interviews, newsletters, that kind of thing. I don’t necessarily record how much time I spend on every little thing, but just having this logbook made me feel more conscious of how much time I was spending on other things, and without making a checklist or whatever of time spent on social media or watching TV, I think I generally found myself being a bit more conscientious or just wary of time and potential opportunities to write. So that was interesting—I didn’t expect that.
 
But trying to record what I’d achieved each week left me with a slight quandary: I’m not that comfortable with the idea of relying on “word count” as a measure of achievement because to me, a solid piece of flash fiction, say, 250-500 words, might be worth more to me than a 1000-word section of a novel that might need some heavy editing. How can you compare such things anyway? And if you’re sticking to word count as your measure, how do you compare new words written with the editing process? Do you count the same words again? And what about brainstorms, or moments of discovery, where you realise the perfect twist to your story? I want to record those as achievements along the way, which also keeps things light and positive—less like a dull checklist.
 
So I’ve ended up noting how many 20-30min slots I use (as I usually need breaks in a one or one-and-a-half hour slot, and this habit of recording shorter slots is like a reminder that I need to take breaks to be as productive as I can be). I make a note of word count if I’ve done well or pretty well; I also record “units of wonder”. That is, moments of discovery, as I work out the solution to a story, or stumble across an idea that adds a twist, or anything else that makes me go, “Wow!” or “Yes!” I make a note of what it was I discovered, and scribble a star next to it, so that when I flick through my logbook, I can see at a glance how many of these special moments I’ve had, which are so vital, if you think about it, to the end product of a story or novel that, how can we not celebrate them? They’re certainly not measurable in word count, or in time slots spent at the computer. Like creativity and inspiration, they go beyond time.
 
Now, some people award themselves stickers, if they really like stickers; others give themselves treats, or award themselves time to do other things they love, or they cook a special meal for hitting a milestone; I tried some colouring in, by gradually building a pattern on graph paper by allocating different colours to different things I achieved: units of wonder were going to be red squares, writing slots spent on Weird Creatures were blue squares, and time spent on Brainstoryum stuff was purple. What can I say? I’m not very inclined towards visual art, so this didn’t work for me, but if you are creative in that way, it’s an idea to try. And to look at a finished pattern full of colours, knowing that each square represents a practical achievement, well, it makes sense that that would be satisfying.
 
For me, I like the physicality of a tangible notebook with all my scribbles in it, seeing those numbers, and those stars, being able to flip back and see what I’ve done… and it prevents the feeling of the weeks and months blurring into one. That feeling you get, that time is just slipping through your fingers and you’re not getting enough done. Whenever you feel like that, you can get out your logbook, flip through and witness the proof that that is not happening.
 
This also ties in with a concept in psychology, of savouring, that is, intentionally focusing on and appreciating positive experiences such as personal achievements. Practising savouring can boost your well-being, reinforce your motivation to keep going, build confidence, and buffer you against stress and the risks of burnout.
 
So I hope there are some useful tips in there for you: whatever your goals, don’t just focus on the end result, which may seem far from your reach. Enjoy the journey; appreciate the journey and all your small achievements along the way as they happen, for they are the steps that will get you there. If we can find a way to celebrate them day by day or week by week, the positivity will keep us buoyant and confident in the knowledge that we are well on our way.
 
**
 
Now, in the last show, I asked whether you could come up with a story or idea based on a rather weird word combination that cropped up: ‘The Multifaceted Cameo’.
 
I received just the one response this time—it was (and is) Betwixtmas after all, so understandably, lots of people are busy enjoying themselves, so it makes sense for things to go quiet on the story-sharing front.
 
However, Paul Monteith, very much in the Christmas mood still, wrote:

Two elves dragged a brown canvas bag into Santa's workshop. "North East Yorkshire's best anthracite," an elf announced.

"The best we can give to the worst," the second elf added. Santa looked at the elves and harrumphed. "They are not the worst, only naughty."

As they rested the bag against the leg of Santa's workstation, he reached in and pulled out a piece of coal. He observed the black lump closely. "Perfect."

"Who's that lump for?" the first elf asked.

Santa looked at his Naughty List. "This is for a Ronny B. Goode." Without another word, he picked up an elf and gently patted him to loosen a sprinkling of glittering stardust over the coal and his carving tools. The tools began to dance just like the dancing sugar plums in the dreams of children snug in their beds.

A carving knife, chisels, and gouges swiveled and swayed, rising and falling over the piece of coal as if they were ballroom dancers. The tools chipped and scraped at the anthracite in a coordinated rhythm, creating a cameo of Ronny B Goode, surrounded by a multifaceted diamond-like surface.

As the elves watched the dramatic flair of the dancing tools, they too began to hop, kick, and skip around the workshop. Santa chuckled and, with a Ho Ho Ho, joined the jig while the tools finished their work.

"Wonderful," Santa roared, as he held up the carved coal. "Even the naughty listers deserve something special at Christmas."’


That is just so cosy and Christmassy. It feels like a last, fairy-dust sprinkled glimpse of the festive season before everything goes back to normal. (Well, if you’re a listener to the show, normal doesn’t have to be “that” normal.)

Thank you, Paul, for sharing your feel-good story. You can find Paul Monteith on Bluesky as Quantum Fairy.
 
Right, it is time to explore new story ideas—and in fact, I have some new methods up my sleeve for the words that are about to emerge from… the Socks of Destiny.
 
SOCKS OF DESTINY ORGAN JINGLE
 
Now, as we enter the new year, I’ve decided I’m going to experiment even more with the game of Exquisite Corpse. As ever, I want this show to be a playground for my—and your—imagination, a pure, playful space where any ideas can happen, and I found myself asking, “What else can we try? Can we push this game further? Can we push our imaginations further and discover even more story ideas?” And so, rather than necessarily pressing the pause button to draft a new short story for the show, I am going to roll up my sleeves and try out some new ideas that will take the game—and our imaginations—to the next level.
 
First, I will brainstorm each Exquisite Corpse on its own, as usual; then I will pick one or two word combinations that stand out from the rest, and try applying a category to them, to see if they can be interpreted in new ways. All will be revealed after the first round of brainstorms…
 
As you may already know, Exquisite Corpse mixes words and phrases from different players into a sentence that goes Describing word—noun—action—describing word—noun”…
 
This part of the show is un-transpose-able! There's much giggling and rustling of paper as I pull words at random from the Socks of Destiny to create three unique sentences. Today’s resulting sentences are:
 
1. The mediocre scholar saw the ghostly outline of the freakish reader.
2. The blustery cloud regretted trusting the souring mannequin.
3. The languid gecko attacked the bittersweet serial killer.
 
**
 
Right, so now I’m going to try a new method to take one of these word combinations to the next level of story brainstorming. I have created a list of different categories: this is just a draft, by the way, and I’m thinking of developing it further, so let me know if you have any suggestions. My draft list for interpretations (and this will make sense when I start trying them out), includes:

• A book or magazine
• A job or role, taken on reluctantly
• A pub or café
• A portal or means of travel
• A piece of treasure or magical, sought-after object
• A monster or creature
• An invention
• A weapon

So taking it from the top—I’ll just pick three: if we take the “freakish reader” and ask, what if this was interpreted as a book or magazine?
 
Well, my eye was drawn to that one because that’s actually reminded me that a “reader” can be a kind of text book where you have extracts of different books gathered together on a topic, I think, for teaching purposes. Which makes this even weirder: if there was a magazine or book that was called the Freakish Reader, it would have to be for teaching people to be freakish in different ways. What does that even mean? I guess, any ways in which people might be non-conformist, but in colourful or interesting ways. You could have articles about strange hobbies, about collecting weird things; starting your own religion; weird clothing… Weirdness for the sake of weirdness, or would it be for a purpose? Maybe that would be the subject of an article. I think I would read the Freakish Reader, even if I’m not necessarily intending to take on any new and bizarre hobbies… I mean, Exquisite Corpse is weird enough, right? There’s enough strangeness and discovery in the life of a writer.
 
OK, how else could we interpret “the freakish reader”? As a weapon? How would that work? I’m now struggling to see it as something other than a book… but then, could a book be a weapon? If it has secret compartments, knives that flip out like a swiss army knife? What else could you fit in there, if this is a magical book? Corkscrews, potions, poisons? A book written in poisonous ink? Now that would be a weapon—a freakish one, too—but how would you be sure that the person would touch the letters? Maybe it’s just the personal message written on the inside, half-hidden by the jacket. If it’s touching enough, personal enough, the recipient might stroke their thumb over it.
 
What else? One more category… A portal or means of travel. How do you travel by book? Well, I frequently travel by book, it’s just a thing that happens as you read the words and let your imagination soar… But could it be a physical means of travel? And what about the “freakish reader”? Well, I suppose that is pretty freakish, if it can take you somewhere else. I have often said that there’s a reason why books are shaped like doors: you open them up, they take you somewhere else. But what if a book became an actual door? I’m imagining a professor of some kind of magical studies. In the corridor outside a lecture theatre, in the bustle of students, he drops a notebook. Someone bends to pick it up for him, but he’s too quick, snatching the leatherbound volume and slipping it into his pocket before they can get a clear look at it. He gives a quick smile, covering his embarrassment. Nothing to see here.
 
Later, he sneaks into an empty office, knuckles tight around the book. Locking the door behind him, he strides over to a cupboard, opens the door. He feels around the back of the cupboard where the wood is uneven, patched together. His finger catches on a ridge. He smiles. He places the book against the panel and it sinks in, a perfect fit into a slim alcove. He gives it a push with the flat of his hand—and he is gone.
 
Dust motes turn in a ray of sun slanting through the window of his empty office. The notebook is a portal; or, more a key into a secret door in the back of a cupboard.
 
I quite like that. It makes me wonder, can my logbook of achievements do something like that?
 
**
 
Right, well I hope you’ve enjoyed the additional brainstorms today. Let me know if you have any comments about this format, or any ideas for new categories I could try. This is very much an experimental area, a work in progress that I want to develop. I am planning to hold some more in-person games whenever I can this year, starting with the folk at work (if they’re up for it, since they seemed to enjoy the games I held at Christmas). I’m thinking of testing out some of these categories with them, expanding the list that I’ve started; maybe I’ll use a dice to decide which interpretations to try, or I’ll write them on cards and shuffle the cards. We’ll see how it goes: you don’t know until you try. You don’t discover unless you explore.
 
In the meantime, let me know if you have a story, poem, or a description of a story idea based on “the freakish reader”? You could even go for the “ghostly outline of the freakish reader” as that takes into account part of the action part of the Exquisite Corpse.
 
Maximum 250 words please; and you know what to do. Go to annatizard.com, hit the contact button and let me know how you’d like to be known so I can quote you. Please send by the Friday after the release of this show, so I can include you in the recording.
 
Until next time, go forth and be inspired!