January for many of us is all about resolutions, goals, moving forward. Something about a brand new shiny year makes us think about what we want to change/accomplish.
I’m a big believer in setting goals. I set achievable writing goals every year, including a month by month plan. I even view daily to-do lists as little mini goals. I’m goal oriented, so having a specific goal means I’ll work really hard for it. For many years my goal was to be published someday, but that was too big, too broad, too unspecific. When I broke it down into words written and submissions sent, that’s when I got somewhere.
Any time you read a romance, you’ll notice the main characters tend to operate on the same wavelength. They have a very specific goal in mind in the beginning. Then, they meet someone who scrambles that goal all to hell.
For instance, the goals of my heroine in my upcoming Indulgence are career related, definitely not love related. She lands in the middle-of-nowhere Kansas to improve her career, not get involved with a hunky pilot. But, of course she gets involved, falls in love, and it becomes a threat to those original career goals.
Luckily, love is pretty flexible.
Has love ever altered your goals? Or have you ever set a goal for yourself, only to have a better one swoop in and change your mind?