Why I Don’t Do New Year’s Resolutions (& what to do instead)

A filmmaker’s guide to the path that vanishes.

My thinking mind is a world-class procrastinator. He doesn’t just suggest I wait for inspiration, he convinces me that I can’t write until I’ve researched the exact type of typewriter used by Jean Giono in France in 1929. If I listened to him, I’d be a guy with a nice typewriter and no films.

Okay, now what’s the one thing you can create this year that won’t exist without you? Not the thing you should do, but the project that keeps you up at 3:00 AM? Cool… now hold that thought.

The Myth of the “Fresh Start”

Every January, the creative world falls into a trap. We treat the New Year like a fresh reel of film, imagining that a change in the calendar will somehow fix a flaw in our process.

We call them resolutions. But in the language of production, a resolution is just a wish without a line item. It’s the “development hell” of the soul.

If we want to create something that didn’t exist before (a film, a revolution) we have to stop looking at the calendar and start looking at the nature of the commitment.

The “Assessor” vs. Actually Playing the Game

There is a recurring character in every artist’s thinking mind: The Assessor. The Assessor is basically a studio executive who lives in your skull and has never actually helped anyone finish a script. He’s obsessed with how things are going. He looks at the footage from yesterday and says, “This isn’t good enough,” or “You don’t feel inspired, maybe wait for better light.”

When we make New Year’s resolutions, we are letting the Assessor run the show. We are making deals based on how we think we will feel in three weeks.

But feelings are the most unreliable crew members you can hire. If I had waited until I “felt ready” to shoot a one-shot musical with my 99-year-old father, Brother Verses Brother would never have happened. The Assessor would have found a thousand reasons to delay.

Did I make mistakes in the movie? TONS. But creation isn’t a result of the right mood, or perfect preparation. It’s the result of a declaration.

The Path that Disappears

The greatest lie the Assessor tells us is that we need clarity before we begin. We think we need a map, a shot list, and a guaranteed distribution deal before we take the first step. But as the poet David Whyte reminds us, the absence of a path is actually the sign that you are finally on one:

“How do you know that you are on your path? Because it disappears. How do you know that you are really doing something radical? Because you can’t see where you are going.”

I’ll include a clip of him saying it, because he’s a good-lookin’ dude too!

If you feel lost, it’s not because you’re failing, it’s because you’re hacking into the woods on your own. You get to do it anyway - especially when you don’t know the way.

How Films Actually Get Made

Through the lens of these Cinema Verses, I don’t look for “motivation.” I look for structures that make the impossible inevitable. Maybe these principles can be helpful:

• Ownership of the Frame. In production, the weather (or any other outside factor) is never an excuse to cancel. You either get the story on film or you don’t. Radical responsibility is the realization that the work happens because of your will alone - not in spite of your circumstances.

• The No-Exit Commitment. When we committed to the improvisational format for Brother Verses Brother, we removed the “out.” Creation requires burning the boats and sailing towards possible failure. Maybe I’ve mixed my metaphors, but you get the point.

• The Memento Mori Factor. Urgency is the artist’s best friend. My father was 99. I didn’t have the luxury of a Five Year Plan. When you realize the light is always fading, you stop negotiating with your distractions.

• Generosity. The moment a project becomes about proving your talent, it dies. When the work is an act of generosity - a gift for the audience, a tribute to a subject, an open canvas for your friends and collaborators - the paralyzing fear of inadequacy disappears.

• Commitment to a “Bad” Take. This is related to my idea of a poop draft as the solution to writer’s block. Basically, you learn 100x more by doing something wrong than by thinking about how to do it right. Recently, after months of wanting to perform a story at The Moth, I biked to Brooklyn by myself and signed up. I told a story in front of 300 people in Brooklyn, but I could barely speak, I was so nervous. I’d completely forgotten to warm up my damn voice! I was so furious with myself, I almost forgot two causes for celebration: 1. I’d actually done it! 2. I’ll NEVER forget the lesson to warm up my voice. If I’d stayed home I’d have learned nothing. In life, as in film, daydreams provide no data - only action teaches.

Honey prepares for her big moment in “Brother Verses Brother”

Beyond the Resolution

If you are waiting for 2026 to provide you with more discipline or more readiness, you are still a slave to your Assessor. I prefer a declaration, which doesn’t care if you’re tired or uncertain. It’s a stand you take: “This film will exist.” It’s the difference between being an observer of your life and being the director of it.

So… what must be created by you this year - not because you “hope” it works out, but because you have declared it so? Say it out loud. Text it to a friend who won’t let you off the hook … or put it in the comments if you like!

What single thing can you do right this second to lasso your dream down from the clouds onto planet Earth?

This is a green light

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