Your New Year’s resolutions are going to fail, and honestly, that’s fine. The list was never the interesting part. The interesting part is the person who wrote it at 11:40 on December 31st, a little sentimental, a little optimistic, convinced that this year the running shoes would get used. A New Year letter to yourself is how you keep that person on file.
I’m writing this in early October, which is on purpose. If you want a letter that arrives next New Year’s, you have a surprisingly long runway, and the people who wait until the countdown usually end up writing three rushed lines on the back of a receipt.
Why a Letter Beats a List
A resolution list is a set of instructions addressed to someone who hasn’t agreed to follow them. A letter is a different genre. It says here’s where I am, here’s what I’m worried about, here’s what I’d like to be true by the time you read this. It can contain resolutions, but they’re evidence of a mood rather than a contract.
There’s also a real reason to bother with the person-on-file part. In a 2013 study in Science, psychologists Jordi Quoidbach, Daniel Gilbert, and Timothy Wilson surveyed more than 19,000 adults between 18 and 68. People of every age said they’d changed a lot over the previous decade, but expected to change much less over the next one. The authors called it the end of history illusion. (It’s worth knowing the finding has critics: the British Psychological Society’s Research Digest pointed out that it leans on people’s memories of who they used to be rather than measured change.) Even so, it matches what a lot of us feel at the start of a year: this time I’ve finally figured out who I am. A letter you open twelve months later is a cheap, slightly smug way to check that assumption.
When to Write It
- Late December, the quiet days between holidays. The classic. You’re reflective, the house is full of leftovers, and nobody’s emailing you.
- The first week of January. Less poetic, more honest. The glow has worn off and you can see what the year actually looks like.
- Right now, if you’re reading this in the fall. Hold My Letter delivers one month to two years out, so you can write today and choose a date next winter. Early drafts are also less sentimental, which helps.
- Your birthday, if the calendar year never felt like your year. Nothing says a New Year letter has to follow the Gregorian calendar.
What to Include
- A snapshot of an ordinary Tuesday. What you eat, what you scroll, what’s on your nightstand. You’ll be startled by how much of it has changed.
- What you’re worried about, by name. Not “stress.” The actual email, appointment, or conversation you keep avoiding.
- The resolutions, with confessions attached. Write the goal, then write how likely you honestly think you are to do it. Your future self will enjoy the discrepancy.
- Predictions. Where you’ll be living, working, and arguing with your family. Be specific enough to be wrong.
- Something you’re proud of from this year. A letter written only about what’s missing reads like a performance review.
- People who matter right now. Names, and a line about why. Friendships rearrange themselves faster than we admit.
- One question for next January. Something you can only answer by having lived the year.
Prompts to Get You Started
- What did you do this morning, exactly, from the moment you woke up?
- What are you pretending not to care about?
- Which resolution do you secretly expect to quit by February?
- What’s one thing you hope will be boring by next year?
- Who have you been meaning to call?
- What would the you of a year ago be surprised to see in your life today?
- What’s the smallest change that would make your days better?
- What are you saving for “someday”, and what would it take to make it Tuesday?
- What do you want to remember about this year, even the unglamorous parts?
- If you could ask next January’s version of you one thing, what is it?
How Hold My Letter Makes This Easy
The hard part of a New Year letter isn’t writing it, it’s getting it back to you a year later without losing it in a drawer, an inbox, or a move. The Digital Future Letter is $9: type it at /write, pick a delivery date, and we print it, seal it, and mail it. If you want the handwriting itself to be part of the record, the Handwritten Future Letter is $19: you write it on paper and mail it in, and we store it and mail it back, sealed, on your date. Delivery runs one month to two years out, to US addresses only. We’ve also got a page for exactly this: the New Year letter to yourself.
If you like the idea of a yearly habit, the annual letter tradition shows how to turn one letter into a stack, and letters to open at milestones covers the dates that aren’t January 1. If you suspect next year’s you will feel like a stranger, this one is for you.
FAQ
Is this the same as writing New Year’s resolutions?
Not quite. A resolution list is a set of instructions. A New Year letter is a portrait: where you are, what you’re hoping for, what you’re dreading, and, if you want, a few resolutions tucked in as evidence of your mood. The list can fail and the letter still works, because the letter’s job is to be read, not to be obeyed.
When should I write it?
Whenever you’ll actually sit down. Late December and the first days of January are the traditional window, but the point is to pick a delivery date a year out, and Hold My Letter can schedule anything from one month to two years ahead. Writing in October or November just means you’ve started early.
Should the letter arrive on New Year’s Day?
It can, but that’s your call. Plenty of people prefer a date a few days into January, when the holiday noise has died down and the mailbox isn’t competing with a houseful of relatives. Pick the date you’ll be most likely to read it slowly.
What if I never keep any of my resolutions?
Then the letter is the more useful of the two. It doesn’t grade you. It just shows you, in your own handwriting or typed words, what you cared about a year ago, which is often more interesting than whether the gym membership survived.
Digital or handwritten?
The Digital Future Letter is $9: type it, and we print it, seal it, and mail it on your chosen date. The Handwritten Future Letter is $19: you write it on paper and mail it in, and we store it and mail it back sealed. If you’re writing at a crowded kitchen table on January 1, digital is easier. If you want the handwriting to be part of the evidence, choose handwritten.
Can I do this every year?
Yes, and that’s where it gets good. Each January you can write a new letter and open the one from last year, so the stack becomes a running record. Our post on the annual letter tradition covers how families do it.
Write the letter. Next January’s version of you is going to want proof of who was here first.