Reading everyone's end-of-the-year/beginning-of-the-year posts made me feel more than a little... insignificant.
I had a good year in 2012. I read a lot of books. I wrote a book. I wrote a first draft of a second book. I had a lot (LOT) of personal stuff happen too, some of which I've shared here on this blog, some of which I haven't.
I read 70 books - by the skin of my teeth - and wrote one and a half. And I read fast. And type fast. So I felt like I was doing pretty well.
Then I read everybody else's lists. Everybody else read eighty, ninety, a hundred, two hundred, three hundred books (no exaggeration). They wrote five books, ten books, twelve books. They published six books, in three different markets.
This coming year I have a goal to read 70 books again. And to write two books. I hope to have one in pre-publication and one with an agent by the end of the year.
Then I read everybody else's goals. To write five books. Publish ten books.
You get the idea.
But one person put a non-book related goal on her list.
She wanted to spend time with her family. She wasn't sure she had done a single family-centered activity last year.
And then I got it.
I'm a wife, a mother, a homeschooling parent. I am all of these things before I am a writer. I may not have written as much as you, but I took my kids to Disneyworld nine times this year. I took them to the science center. The pool. The beach. The playground (oh, the number of playgrounds we've seen this year!). The dinosaur museum. The zoo. The splashpads, the playplaces. We've wrestled and built forts and Lego castles and puppet stages.
I'm living outside my books, too.
So I'm okay with my goals. They're smaller than yours. But that's my idea of balance.