A goal in 2022: Yes, I jumped on the proverbial bandwagon.

Where did the term “bandwagon” come from anyway?

According to Dictionary.com, the term “bandwagon” was a 19th-century American word used to describe horse-drawn carriages pulling a wagon filled with circus characters. These wagons were used primarily to draw attention as they paraded through town, appealing to residents who were out doing their shopping or were on their way to work in the city.

It was a cheap way to market the fact that a circus was about to come to that specific town. The first known printed existence of the term is in the autobiography written by the famous circus owner, P.T. Barnum, The Life of P.T. Barnum written by himself.

Later, politicians used the same method to ride through the towns where they would be campaigning. The idea was the same: to attract the attention of town residents.

Blogger Emily Upton said that by the late 1800s, the word was expanded in its usage. She wrote, “Over time, the phrase stopped meaning the literal riding of a bandwagon and started to refer to jumping into anything that was popular. It’s unclear exactly when this transition occurred, but Teddy Roosevelt made a reference to it in Letters, 1899, (later published in 1951):

‘When I once became sure of one majority they tumbled over each other to get aboard the band wagon.’”

Letters, 1899

So… why the history lesson about bandwagons?

Well, it’s simple. I’ve seen no less than 27 emails, Instagram posts, or news-related headlines in the last two weeks all focused on a January bandwagon: goal-setting.

Some references alter the phrase by saying, “changing a rhythm” or “evaluating how your time is spent,” but they’re basically just euphemisms for goal-setting. And as much as I hate to join a popularity contest or employ tactics to get clicks, I’ve joined up, turned in my registration card, and signed on the proverbial dotted line.

I am writing a post about goals.

However, if you are still reading, I will explain one important distinction.

I did not write about goals to make you re-evaluate your writing routines, what works for you, or even to teach you anything at all. (I am not a fantastic goal-setter myself.)

Instead, I am writing about goals for one reason only: I knew I needed one.

For better or worse, an effective goal can accomplish five things, according to Edwin A. Locke’s goal-setting theory: help us clarify what we want, challenge us to stay focused on what we want, stay committed when it’s tough, encourage our vulnerability when we need to ask for feedback, and guide us to break large goals into smaller ones so that they’re achievable.

The bottom line is this:

Sometimes, we need to set a definitive goal to make sure we achieve something. Will we hit our goal exactly when we said we would precisely in the way we said we should? Maybe, maybe not.

But without naming the goal in the first place, our destination is muddy at best, nowhere at worst.

Progress is better than stagnation. Slow is better than nothing. Perfection is never the goal.

Want to know my goal?

I aim to have written the middle of my middle, according to my novel’s chapter outline, by March 19. (I’m attending a conference, and I’d like to be able to ask intelligent questions based on actual writing that I have completed — not based on writing I hope to complete ‘someday.’ And yes, my first name is Miracle as you can see from my registration screenshot. That’s another story for another day.)

To break down my goal even further, I will…

1. Try to finish up chapters 11-15 by March 19.
2. Research OR write an entire chapter every Friday.

This may seem like small potatoes, but I like to ….

• Revise as I go
• Ensure my world is research-based
• Consider what plot elements are driven by the characters’ development and which ones aren’t (maybe they are driven by something else or maybe they need to be excluded from the plot altogether?)
• Rewrite occasionally

I know some authors prefer to just write and get it done. I like to write, get it done, and yes — go back to revise — but maybe not get rid of everything in my first draft if I can avoid it. (Hence, the occasional rewriting as I go.)

Taking these preferences into consideration, I shoot for a slower approach to writing.

But at least I have a goal — pushed forward largely because of an external deadline, attending a conference for SCBWI.

How do you know if you need a goal?

It’s an entirely personal decision, which is why I am a little against the idea that we must all set goals in January. (New Year Bandwagon Alert.) What about March? July? November? Why can’t these also be (or only be) goal-setting months?

Here are a few clues that help me see my own need for a goal. I hope you find them useful.

I may need a goal when …

• I can’t be bothered to do something I usually enjoy.
• My focus has been in 101 places consistently. (Notice, I didn’t stop at “places.” I added the word “consistently” for a reason. This describes me if I am regularly opening my laptop, not knowing what to do after that.)
• Too many external forces are calling me to ask for help, get my volunteerism, or in some way, occupy my time. (Note: It’s not wrong to say “yes,” but I have found it helpful to have a goal so that I can also learn when to say “no.”)
• Everything in life feels like a to-do list instead of a gift. (This is when I know my priorities have gotten misplaced, and I need to return to them. They occupy a shortlist, so by returning to them, I revisit a mental check-in with what is most important to me and why.)

If any of these attitudes or emotions start to become visible in my mental or emotional rearview mirror, I like to pause and ask three questions:

1. What is most important to me in life?
2. What season of life am I in?
3. In this season of life, how much time can I devote to what is important to me (question #1)?

So if you are struggling, don’t hesitate to hitch up your wagon and set a goal to help you get somewhere — anywhere that isn’t where you are today.