On Momentum
And how to keep it.
Welcome back to Keep Writing, where the horrors fervently increase their persistence and, I suppose, so must we. If you’re new here, warmest welcomes to you: Help yourself to the cauldron of noodle soup on the fire before taking a stroll through our archives.
This is the time of year when devotion to resolutions begins to wane. The first days after the new year still carry that sparkly holiday luster; late January is when the steamrolling drudgery of daily life creeps in.
This is when our mettle is tested. This is when we need to hold the line.
First: Let us acknowledge that there is no shame in revising a resolution. If one bites off more than one can chew, the logical first step is to stop trying to cram so much in one’s mouth already. If you tried to write 1000 words every day and it’s untenable, stop feeling guilty about your failures and move the goalposts closer to reality.
But if your problem is not the goal itself but the act of sticking to it, that’s a different problem. A missed writing day does not a calamity make. Two, three days? Easily made up for. The problem starts to arise when the missed days stack up, outweighing the writing days.
The problem is when a writer loses momentum.
Momentum is sustained energy. It is the force that easily carries a writer from one day to the next. It is the long haul and not the sprint. Every day you write and then return to write the next day, you are building and acquiring momentum.
Your brain becomes used to returning to the world of your draft. You pick up where you left off easily, because its world still fresh in your mind. Nothing about writing this story is new or novel; it is familiar, a habit, an old friend. You pick it up, put it down, pick it back up, and repeat until a story is made.
Losing momentum makes things much more difficult. First, there’s the guilt: How could you abandon your draft-child for so long? It depends on you for its very existence!
Then there’s the memory: Where were you in this scene again? What was tethering you to it? How had you imagined it unfolding on the page?
And then there’s the habit aspect: That pocket of your time reserved for writing has been stolen by something else. The more something else encroaches on it, the weaker its walls and boundaries become.
But you’re also losing grip on the simple satisfaction that comes from seeing your progress happen in real time. It’s easier to get a sense of how your actions contribute to a greater whole when you’re chipping away at a thing continuously. The shape emerges. You get a feel for where you’re going from seeing where you’ve been.
The risk of losing momentum should give you increased defenses in your arsenal for protecting your writing habit. It should ideally make it easier to say no to other things.
So. Keep the momentum, as best you can. That’s always the goal. That’s the gold standard.
But: What happens when life gets in the way?
Because it will. That’s what life does. You’re going to get the flu or have knee surgery or need to care for an ailing elderly capybara. Busy periods are going to happen at work, at home, or in your extracurricular calendar. The roof may cave in. Your hard drive crashes. Etcetera.
The longer you stay away, the harder it becomes to claw your way back. So here are some tips if you’ve lost your momentum:
Put a day on the calendar to reconnect with your manuscript. Carve out that time. And then read: Read your draft in its entirety. Read your notes. Read your research. Refresh yourself in all the work you’ve already done.
Try revising your writing goals. Some examples include: Write every other day. Write on Tuesdays and Thursdays instead of every weekday. Write just once a week, but always at the same time and same place. Add just one new sentence to your draft on the days you can’t get to it.
Read our suggested shortcuts for immediately getting your brain back in touch with the draft it’s working on.
Leave a little comment or note in the draft reminding yourself where you’re going next before you exit the document.
Get an accountability buddy. Write together. Or just vow to tell each other when you write and be honest with each other when you don’t.
Throw out the daily word counts or time goals or any other rigid structure and just make a promise to yourself: I will not lose this project’s momentum.
And then try your hardest to keep that promise.
Until next month—
Keep writing,
Nicki
Calls for Submissions
Spotlight Pick
The First Line: Stories and poems that begin with a given first sentence
This journal provides the first line of a work, and then it’s up to writers to fill in the rest of the story or poem. The first provided sentence of 2025 is “I flipped through the notebook and found half-finished poems, some drawings, and _____.” The journal has already selected all four sentences for each of its seasonal submission windows, and if writers are feeling ambitious, they may write “a four-part story that uses the spring, summer, fall, and winter sentences.” Send fiction between 300 and 5,000 words (roughly) or poems of any line count, although note that the journal only rarely publishes poetry. The submitted work must begin with the first line provided. Alternatively, submit a 500- or 800-word critical essay about your favorite first line from a literary work. No submission fees. Payment is $25-50 for fiction, $10 for poetry, and $25 for nonfiction.
Deadline: Feb. 1
The Queer Love Project: “Second Chances”
Send essays on second chances in queer relationships—“romantic, platonic, among friends and found family, or with oneself”—to The Queer Love Project. (“Think ‘Modern Love’—but only queer stories.”) Preferred word count range is 1,700 to 3,000, but editors will consider longer works. Payment: $75. Must be a (free) subscriber of The Queer Love Project Substack to submit.
Deadline: Feb. 14
National Flash Fiction Day Anthology: “Bridges” flash
Editors of the 2026 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology seek flash submissions in 500 words or less that somehow relate to the theme of “bridges.” Submissions are free, although there is a small suggested donation for multiple entries. Published contributors will receive a free copy of the anthology. The editors will each select one piece to receive their “Editor’s Choice Award” and subsequent £50 prize.
Deadline: Feb. 15
Dark Matter: Women Witnessing: “Intimacy” submissions
Dark Matter: Women Witnessing “publishes writing and visual art created in response to an age of massive species loss and ecological collapse. It is a home for dreams, visions, and communications with the nonhuman world, especially those with messages for how we might begin to heal our broken relationship to the earth.” The call for this journal’s first intimacy-themed issue had so many responses that editors decided to run a second. Women and nonbinary writers are welcome to submit, although all submissions should be “accompanied by notes bridging to the journal’s mission.” Max word count is 5,000 words. Submissions in French and German are also welcome (editors will translate). No submission fees.
Deadline: Feb. 27
The Slab Press: Music- (or space-) themed horror submissions
For its forthcoming November 2026 anthology, Screams and Wails, The Slab Press is seeking horror short stories: “Anything with music or music culture as a predominant theme, but [we] are particularly keen on alternative rock types such as rock, indie, metal, goth, prog, dub etc. We want the mood, style and trappings of music, which means fiction, aspiration, glamour, dirt and grit, but mostly fiction,” editors explain. Also, hard pass on “anything that will land us with a lawsuit, thank you. No real music lyrics!” Stories should be roughly between 2,000 and 9,000 words. No submission fees. Payment is 1p a word to a maximum of £50 (roughly $60). But if space horror is more your vibe, there’s also a call for longer stories set in space with a word count range of 9,000 to 25,000 words. Payment is 1p a word to a maximum of £100.
Deadline: Feb. 28 for music (Feb. 15 for space)
Brink Literary Journal: Hybrid or cross-genre writing
Any writers “who identify their work as hybrid or cross-genre in nature” are welcome to submit up to 15 pages of work to this contest from Brink. The winner will receive $1,000 and publication in the fall issue, plus 4 complimentary copies of the issue. The entry fee is $25, but Brink offers a limited number of fee waivers available upon request. Winners will be announced in early May.
Deadline: Feb. 28
Thanks for this article. Keep up the momentum!