Metrics: they're only meaningful if they mean something to you.

Like anyone who juggles a job with family, I struggle to get everything done. I try to do it well, and I take fun breaks now and then because, as we all know, nothing is guaranteed. What this means, and what I've come to accept, is that I fail on a daily basis. I make lists every morning (which is already a failure because I'm supposed to make them the night before) and load them so high there's no way I can get everything done. My writing goals alone are always overestimated by at least half. You think I'd learn, but noooo….

One thing I have learned, however, is self-forgiveness. I won't expound on that any further because Elizabeth Gilbert does so here, and all I need add is 'ditto.'

But I've also learned — and this is a dirty little secret – that every writer fails every day. The word count isn't where you wanted it to be. You didn't read what you intended to in order to 'fill the well.' You're behind on admin stuff. That chapter or page or sentence didn't come out just right.

But you keep going and all those failed days add up, and suddenly you have a book. I've failed forward in this way seven times now, and I'm about to fail for an eighth time. (Um. Go, me?)

Anyway, the point is, you set your metrics (because it's proven that those who set goals/resolutions still get farther than those who set none), you do your level best every day, and the passion and personal reasons behind your chosen goals gets you through it day after day. I thought I'd start sharing my metrics with you so you could see how badly I continually fail, and yet how I seem to get there anyway. Here's what I tracked in January:

Goal: get from 64K to 90K on project

Achieved: 81K before beginning rewrite (failed by 9K)

Goal: 40K words rewritten

Achieved: 25K rewritten (failed by 15K)

Goal: write 22 of 31 days (I take weekends off)

Achieved: 21 of 22 (failed by 1 day)

Goal: workout 5-6 days a week

Achieved: 21 of 31 days (failed by 2 days)

I failed in everything.

Mind if I recast this in the positive, instead of looking at failures, I wrote 17K new words, rewrote 25K, I'm still on schedule to meet my deadline, and I worked out more days than not. What you can't see in black-and-white are all the real life intangibles, and that's what really makes life a juggling act, no? For me, that was:

Start packing for a move at the end of this month, visits to my grandmother in rehab (she just had a stroke), a memorial for a dear friend, birthday party for my child, unexpected but necessary business meetings, and travel.

None of those things translate very well to a spreadsheet, nonetheless they're all deeply emotional, and this is where the self-forgiveness comes back in. My child may never know how desperately I tried to dye a tablecloth in order to make a gorgeous ombre hue on which to place an amazing birthday setting. And that's mostly because it didn't turn out ombre. It was one dark, flat color and it looked like a fucking bedsheet. (The carpet now has some nice polka dots on it, though, so I guess that's something.). But I know. And my life was enriched by the trying.

It was enriched by visiting a woman I love who is doing her best to face her end years gracefully.

It was enriched by crying uncontrollably over the loss of a friend who died too damned soon.

It was enriched by taking positive, if uncomfortable, career steps.

It was enriched by working hard to travel to those I love.

So those are my metrics, and failures, for January. But you know what? They all mean something to me, and living a life of meaning? Well … at least I'm succeeding there.

I'll see ya next week. Meanwhile, don't forget to celebrate your failures.