Hundreds of you are still muddling through writing goals for 2011, wondering if you can or cannot accomplish them. It’s that list of things you MUST do in 2011 you made through a haze of Grey Goose and laughter as you continually mumbled the words, “I love you SO much … no … no … listen … I LOVE you …” into the ear lobe of  a best friend, colleague or, worse, your boss.

New Year’s resolutions are a bad idea, and there’s plenty of data to back up this notion, especially if these resolutions are made days before the ball drops on Times Square. Starting in early November, that 45-day period when “holiday spirit” kicks in and a majority of us are negotiating with Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and Christmas in no place for strident, new commitments.

Travel, appointments, parties, alcohol, food and every other distraction take center stage. Meanwhile, there are cards to be addressed, packages to wrap, trees to decorate, menorahs to light. The list goes on. There’s little time to nail down concrete changes to writer habits.

For most of us, that means the preparation needed to improve the quality and quantity of writing is, mostly, shot. Yes, there are a few of you who simply called Christmas “Saturday,” treated New Year’s Eve like a wake, and eschewed the holidays. Got it. But for the thousands of others obligated to friends, family and charity, that time to get mentally and physically ready to make good on resolutions did not exist.

See, there’s a pack mentality about resolutions. At the start of a new calendar year, EVERYONE makes them. So, one mustn’t be left out, right? Everyone tells you they will add 1,000 more words written per day, query more and make a better effort in as vocal a manner as can be had. But in the end, quietly, these resolutions fail, most because of poor preparation, action and follow through.

The good news? The holidays are over! January is a return to the grind, but it also means the November-December obligations are gone. Now is a very good time to think about writing resolutions.

Let’s call them Groundhog Resolutions.™

Groundhog Resolutions start when the top-hatted Pennsylvanians yank that giant gopher out of the box and hold it aloft (like Harry Hamlin did with the Gorgon head in “Clash of the Titans.”). For Americans, there’s no excuse of knowing the moment this happens; it’s on every major television news network (like the dropping ball).

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVUbjBIVJkw

Groundhog resolutions are better than New Year’s resolutions because they give you time to discover, prepare, act and follow through. That follow-through also means tweaks and changes where necessary. Think about it. As of today, you have 29 days to prepare with few distractions. You can consult your family and friends. Your calendar. Your work schedule. Tarot. Whatever.

It also means you can try things out between now and then before committing to them. Want to write two hours instead of one? Try it. Want to push at least one query letter out per month? Try it. Inquire about a writing class or a writing group? Try it. Once you’re settled on the ones that suit you, write them down. Create rewards for meeting daily, weekly and monthly goals. Find a mentor or friend to stand alongside.

Then, when Groundhog Day hits (Feb. 2 in the United States), commit to the ones that bolster you, and do them again and again and again. After all, you’ve had time to build support from your family and friends, created rewards and thought of ways to manage setbacks. How could you have done all that hovering over a punchbowl filled with Hi-C, Drambuie, lemons and bits of tinsel?

This isn’t for everyone. Changes are hard. Habits are habits. Behaviour is behaviour. However, maybe the Groundhog, that free time and the notion that your writing might just make “the leap” this year may help.

What do you think?

(Photo credit: unknown)

There are no great pronouncements about 2010 to be made. And whatever is behind me is behind me. So, there is no sense reflecting upon bells that cannot be unrung. There is also little good in thinking we can cast new bells and move them to the belfry, and have them ringing before the next service.

Adults have this proclivity of marking milestone dates like this with at least the metaphor of change. That is, some statement like, “Even if nothing else around me will suffer or reward from significant change, than I should at least believe that there is the opportunity for massive change in my life and go with it.” That is the flawed sentiment a new year brings.

There is also this idea that a new decade (and more recently, a new millennium) means a new era of some kind and the idea of making predictions. Sort of setting the table for what the next ten years will look, smell and sound like by pronouncing bold things and championing capricious self-made causes. Most that, however, is media bullshit to fill a 24-hour news cycle, to fill magazine columns and keep talk-radio moving.

I prefer to see resolutions from my 4-year-old daughter’s perspective. She has not, as of yet, learned how to tell time. She doesn’t know the difference between January and January Jones. And she’s pretty happy. Further, she did not wake up Jan. 1 proclaiming new visions on attacking going to the bathroom, putting on her clothes or making digital fairies on her computer. She just woke up and wanted cartoons. I did, too.

All the things people have made irrational resolutions about are things they think about during the 364 days that came before the ball dropped and the 364 before the next one will. For instance, I want to be more organized. I’d also like to paint and draw more. I’d like to worry less. A few others as well. I think about them every day.

And yes, I want to lose weight. I also should be nicer and more compassionate to people. But most of those notions have bumped around my head for months if not years, just as they do in yours. It’s not as if sometime around Dec. 15 I had some sort of epiphany. The sun has not shown through the clouds. No voice has spoken. There are no trumpets of St. Gabriel to herald remarkable feats I will accomplish by, say, March.

But there are plenty of you who believe that. You’ll start your weight-loss plan, your stop-smoking plan or your “be kind to others” plan the same day you have the worst hangover of your life. You’ll putz around with the notions for about 18 days, according to averages, and then you’ll quit. It’s not your fault. It’s human nature. As a good friend noted, resolutions are like dating a stripper. Sure, they’re good for a little while, but are you going to get married to them? So, I’ll stick with my 4-year-old’s outlook on this. Sun’s up. I need to eat. I get bored easy. Where’s my chocolate milk?

Adults don’t change. They manage. And if they can manage to to make one significant change over time (sustained weight loss, for instance), that’s pretty good. But stacking the deck with multiple resolutions? That’s like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded weapon. And when one resolution falls, they’ll all fall and you’re just back at the dining table drowning the lost resolutions in wine.

That said, one my 2010 prediction is this: there will be millions of quiet, failed resolutions. There will be millions of loud, failed resolutions. And there will be few resolutions that meet their intended ends. And those who can actually set a resolution and meet it are probably people who can do that on June 17 or Nov. 2, too. Exceptional people who have the ability, as adults, to make a paradigm change that makes them better.

For most of us, however, we don’t have those skills and believing we do and ensuring success on the same night there are millions of shirtless drunks slobbering on the tarmacs from Seattle to Boston; the same night we take seriously “Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve;” the same night we say something like, “Screw it. I’m gonna get drunk because I’ve earned it” is, at best, naive and, at worst, troubling.

Perhaps, then, resolutions are better left for days of greater clarity. Leisurely days when we can invest time to plan and see the ideas through. Days with families who’ll build support. Days with those few caring friends to act as guides and mentors. Days that have absolutely nothing to do with a meaningless milestone that merely signals another cycle of seasons and the start of someone’s new fiscal year.

We have to go learn how to change before we can change. Anything else is bell ringing for bell-ringing’s sake.

Happy Twenty-Ten.