Jay Hoffmann

I don’t know what to call this yet

Tag: Goals

  • Writing Goals as Narratives

    I’m as susceptible to productivity “hacks” as anyone else. I’ve collected different techniques and methodologies like so many trading cards; looked over, examined, and eventually put back on the shelf. I’ve hopped between a good old-fashioned notebook and a complex map of different apps and notes (and then back again). I’ve read books and blog posts and tried more free trials than I can count.

    But last year, I settled on something that just kind of… works. It’s not perfect, but it fits my brain. And I’ve made a conscious effort to put aside my once-endless search for a perfect system. The result has been some actual clarity and space in my thinking these days. Most days, I’m able to prioritize what needs to be done and leave a little time for writing and reading and all the other things I want to do. It’s far from perfect, but that’s kind of the point.

    For the first time, my goal isn’t to “get more organized.” This leaves me with an exciting question about where to focus.

    Goal Setting: The Old Way

    Usually when I’m thinking about goals, I’m really thinking about projects. I have a list of things that I need to get done and another list off to the side of things I want to get done. I take those lists, roughly sort them, and stack the blocks. Finish the projects, finish your goals It’s the agile-driven SMART goal methodology adapted to my personal life.

    Which can be effective in my work life, and setting goals for a team, but lacks the higher level thinking that those goals are usually informed by. 

    A couple of weeks ago, I was reading Kalyn Brooke’s latest post about setting a word of the year. It’s a way of centering all of your habits and goals for a year around a single concept. For instance, Kalyn selected abundance this year. It’s a goal setting strategy I’ve seen elsewhere and it can be a powerful way to center your life and focus.

    But that’s not exactly how my brain works. I like to stretch an idea out a bit and see if it has legs. Some of my goals and habits are interconnected, but they also can spin off in different directions.

    The Power of Narrative Goals

    So I’m going to give my goal setting a little twist. Instead of a single word, I am crafting small, past-tense narratives for each of my goals. This method isn’t just about envisioning an outcome; it’s about telling a story and reflecting on the milestones as though they’ve already been achieved.

    Writing goals as narratives that have already happened is a pretty powerful psychological shift. It is a recognition of what is possible in a year, and a way to work backwards from a final goal. Each story becomes a miniature act of self-fulfillment, a private victory etched into the year’s end before the journey even begins.

    For instance, I have a goal to mix things up a bit with my History of the Web project. I have no idea exactly how that’s going to take form, so rather than write out any particulars, I’m focusing on how I want it to feel.

    History of the Web

    I’ve launched a new site, a mixture of different types of content and various experiments. It has become a place of exploration, filled with different kinds of information, mixed and remixed into something that resembles a museum and a blog, digitally interpreted. There are places for people to donate and contribute.

    I don’t know if everything will get done. But at the end of the year I want to look back and be able to say the above has come true. It can guide my decisions and help me focus on the real meaning of the goal, rather than just turn things into a endless todo list I just have to get through.

    These goals are pulled from different areas of my life. Some are personal, some are career-driven and some are about side projects and passions. Together, they tell a story about where I want to be at the end of this year. But separate, each will be a self-contained story, a snapshot of success that acknowledges the interconnection of my goals without forcing them into a single linear path. They will allow for divergence, recognizing that sometimes the journey will take an unexpected turn or two.

    I’m hoping this will open new doors in my mind, and allow me to walk a path with focus and conviction. Here’s to the story that’s only just been written. Let’s see how it goes.

  • #15: Finding focus in the new year

    I’m thinking a lot about focus this week. There’s something about a new year that makes you look forward. I spent the last year trying to clear away time for things that were important to me or to my work: larger projects, time for reading books, for spending time with my family, for writing here and on The History of the Web.

    And that was, somewhat to my surprise, pretty successful. At work, I have been spending more time on priorities. In my personal life I’ve been able to find the time I wanted for writing and reading and organizing my thoughts.

    Now I’m looking forward with a bit of a question mark. I don’t actually know what my goals are right now. What I’m looking to get out of the next year. I’m ready to try something different. So I did what I usually do. I searched around. It brought me to a new book about mindfulness called Peak Mind by Amishi P. Jha. It seems practical and approachable. Clearing my mind and finding focus? That sounds right up my alley.

    I’m looking forward with a flicker of uncertainty. My goals feel a bit hazy and out of focus. But I have settled on one thing—I’m ready to share things up and try something new. I poked around some search engines and checked a few things and stumbled onto at least one intriguing book. It’s called Peak Mind by Amishi P. Jha. It appears to be a practical guide to mindfulness and meditation, a practice I am admittedly a little wary of. Yet, the idea of clearing my mind and focusing better? That sounds like something I could do.

    I’ve returned to Steinbeck for the third time in less than a year in his culminating work East of Eden. It is broad—in length and in scope—but maybe its most admirable quality is how much it takes its time. Grapes of Wraith oscillated between its socially charged narrative and didactic monologues injected by Steinbeck himself. So it’s most brilliant moments live in either the world of the story and its dynamics or in Steinbeck’s soliloquies.

    East of Eden feels different. As it drifts along, Steinbeck pulls on various threads. Different characters, different locales, and all the contrives of an exciting plot. As you read, however, you realize that Steinbeck is pulling from different POVs which blend together a contradictory worldview both confused and in awe of the march of progress.

    And then Steinbeck will do what he does best. Sits himself in the middle of a scenario as a conflict converges and extracts the truth and message in it. East of Eden is fascinating for its thematic density and allegorical connections and autobiographical story. But it’s also sharp and personal and familiar and in the first quarter of the novel, that’s what I’m enjoying the most.

    Things I wrote this week:

    John O’Donohue on the artifice of beginnings:

    When we arrive into the world, we enter this ancient sequence. All our beginnings happen within this continuity. Beginnings often frighten us because they seem like lonely voyages into the unknown. Yet, in truth, no beginning is empty or isolated. We seem to think that beginning is setting out from a lonely point along some line of direction into the unknown. This is not the case. Shelter and energy come alive when a beginning is embraced… We are never as alone in our beginnings as it might seem at the time. A beginning is ultimately an invitation to open toward the gifts and growth that are stored up for us. To refuse to begin can be an act of great self-neglect

    Notes

    Check Asana
    Clear out Reeder
    Check Inbox Note
    Read through emails
    Go through “To Sort” In Raindrop
    Set a weekly focus
    Publish Weeknote