2026 Goals:
There’s always this big push in January to go, go, go—which feels wildly out of sync with what most of us actually want to do in the middle of winter. We want to sit wrapped in blankets, next to a fire. Hibernate. Gather ourselves before spring.
I’m sure I could spiral into a deep dive about calendars, empires, capitalism, and how January somehow became the month of relentless goal-chasing—but instead, I’m choosing to listen to my soul.
I’m greeting 2026 like an old friend.
We’ve been here before: the turn of the calendar, the setting of goals. But this time, I’m not charging forward. I’m walking.
And what does that have to do with my writing?
Everything.
As a military family, our living situation is always slightly up in the air. Over the course of my husband’s career, we’ve bounced between North Carolina and Okinawa, Japan. Our first tour in Okinawa was life-changing—but short. Three years goes by fast. We spent the next seven years in North Carolina, and when the opportunity came to return to Okinawa one last time before retirement, we didn’t hesitate.
We knew those three years would fly by. And they have.
At the beginning of 2025, we believed we were months away from preparing for another move. The uncertainty settled in hard—balancing a full-time job, writing and marketing, and trying to plan for unknowns like relocation, jobs, and school for the kids.
So I did what I always do: I made lists.
Possible degrees. Certifications. Backup plans to backup plans. I looked into getting my teaching license on the chance I could work overseas. I loved teaching ELA when I did it long-term a few years ago—I thrived, and so did my students.
And then we got the news: We were extended. Three more years.
Paradise, again—but with a pivot. Logistically, school no longer made sense. So it was back to the drawing board. With three more years, what does life look like on the other side of that? The honest answer: we won’t know for a while. Not until my daughter is a junior and college plans begin to take shape. No matter what, an international move is coming—but it’s not here yet.
What that realization gave me was something I hadn’t had in a long time: space.
Two steady years where I can work full time and intentionally dedicate myself to writing and building a readership, so that this passion, and this talent, has a real chance to become a career.
Last year was defined by unknowns. This year comes with steadiness.
So what does that look like?
It means accepting that I can’t just write when I feel like it or squeeze it in when life allows. This is a business—one I care deeply about. I have loyal, excited patrons who deserve my best. And honestly? I deserve to give myself my best, too.
I’m still working through the details of the plan, but as I do, I’ll be sharing it with you.
As for my goals for 2026:
Find 100 new readers. This is a mindset shift—from chasing sales to finding people who genuinely love what I do.
Grow this Patreon to 100 subscribers. I love this space. It helps cover editors and narrators, yes—but more than that, it reminds me I’m not building in a vacuum.
Publish The Assassin’s Reaper. I’ve released a book every year, and while I hoped for two this year, life had other plans. For now, I need to focus on strengthening the book bible before diving headfirst into Reaper.
Sell 500 books. It feels big—but if those 100 new readers dive into the series alongside a new release, it’s entirely attainable.
Travel to two new countries. Not book-related, but travel fuels my creativity in ways nothing else does.
Read 24 books. I read about 10 this past year (and re-read my own more times than I can count). But we’ve re-established nightly family reading time, I’ve cut tech before bed, and I even bring a book to the gym to read between sets. Less scrolling, more stories—it feels doable.
I’m excited for this year. I have a plan. I have momentum. And I have accountability—thank you for being part of that.
So what does your 2026 look like? Are you setting goals? Charging forward? Or choosing to walk and enjoy the ride?