From Edie: Feeling discouraged after a hard writing year? Learn why starting small is a grace-filled, faith-centered way for writers to rebuild momentum, joy, and confidence in the new year.
by Lynn H. Blackburn @LynnHBlackburn
This time of year, my social media feeds are full of big change energy, and I don’t hate it. It’s good to take time to evaluate what worked, what didn’t, and what you want to be different in the new year.
For some people, the new year feels fresh and exciting and full of opportunities. 2025 was good to them and they’re riding the wave into 2026.
I relate.
My 2025 held some truly phenomenal positives. There were awards and contracts. There were sweet times of fellowship with readers and writers, and there was an incredible amount of joy.
But the truth is that I didn’t meet most of my 2025 goals. There were a lot of things that didn’t go the way I planned. Changes I failed to make. Projects I didn’t complete.
I’ve spent a fair bit of time over the past week considering how to move forward in 2026, and the thing I keep coming back to is this…
I don’t need to start big. I need to start small.
I have to be honest—starting small isn’t my favorite idea. My perfectionist self sees it as weakness. My work ethic wants to slap me around and tell me to dig deep. My pride says, “Go big or go home.”
But deep in my soul, I know that starting small isn't settling. It isn’t lazy. It's wisdom.
If 2025 wasn’t your best writing year ever, it will be so tempting to charge into 2026 with big plans, but I want to encourage you to start small. Set goals that allow you to recover your stamina and your joy.
We appreciate the concept of starting small in other areas. When we have the flu, we know we can’t return to work immediately. We know it will take a few days, maybe even a few weeks, to get back to our normal pace. And we know if we overdo it, we’ll wind up back in the bed.
When we have an injury, we don’t walk back into the gym and expect to lift the same weight we did before. We know we will get there eventually, but it will take time. And we also know that if we don’t start small, we’ll set our recovery back.
So take this to heart when setting your writing goals. Instead of, “I’m going to write 2K a day,” maybe go with, “I’m going to open my manuscript five days a week.” Instead of planning to read one craft book a month, shoot for one for the year.
Set goals that are small and set them with the confidence of a professional athlete returning to the gym after surgery. You're not going backward. You're rebuilding the muscle memory of showing up to the page. You're remembering what it feels like to be a writer, not just someone who used to write.
That's not failure. That's smart training. And honestly? I think God often does His best work in us during the rebuild—when we're finally quiet enough, humble enough, dependent enough to listen.
Please hear me. I know this is counterintuitive.
We're conditioned to celebrate only the big milestones. Finished manuscripts. Signed contracts. Release days. Those are wonderful—but they're not the whole story.
Scripture is full of reminders that God works in the small things. The mustard seed. The widow's mite. The still, small voice. He doesn't need our big to do something significant. In fact, He seems to prefer working through our small, our humble, our "this is all I have” offerings.
What if this year, we counted all of it? What if progress wasn't just about finished products, but about faithfulness in the showing up? About stewarding this gift even when it doesn't look like we thought it would?
So here’s my goal for myself, and maybe you would want to join me?
This year, I’m choosing my own small. I’m not focused on what I think I should be doing. I’m looking at where I actually am and choosing to take small steps, while trusting God to direct my path.
If you do this, remember that whatever you choose, no matter how small, God can use it. He’s the God who does more than we can ask or imagine. And He has a track record of taking small offerings and multiplying them into feasts!
Let’s trust that the God who numbers the hairs on our heads and sees the sparrow fall is intimately and intensely aware of our word counts, our creative struggles, and our discouraged hearts. He’s writing a beautiful story, and we get to be part of it. Let’s rest in that.
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. ~ I Thessalonians 5:23-34 (ESV)
Grace and peace,
Lynn
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Lynn H. Blackburn loves writing swoon-worthy Southern stories—from nail-biting romantic suspense to butterfly-inducing contemporary romance—because her childhood dream of becoming a spy crashed into the reality that she'd probably dive behind the nearest potted plant at the first sign of actual danger. The truth is, she was likely more interested in those dashing fictional spies than in the actual spying. It's safer for everyone for her to live vicariously through her characters!
Lynn lives in South Carolina with her husband, children, and an overprotective goldendoodle. She writes her novels in between homeschooling, parenting an adult with special needs, watching her boys play baseball, and teaching at conferences.
You can follow along with her real-life plot twists by signing up for her newsletter at LynnHBlackburn.com and connecting with her @LynnHBlackburn on social media.


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