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Why 2026 is the year writers stop drifting (or get left behind)

Drift is getting expensive. Here’s how to stop paying for it.

Jaime Buckley 💎's avatar
Jaime Buckley 💎
Jan 10, 2026
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This whole JaimeBuckley-writer-teaching-thing is new to me, and we’re still experimenting on how and when to bring you a lifetime of experience.

Jaime Buckley, teaching a private course to influencers and business owners.

This article is a ‘personal’ moment with you.

We’d like the opportunity to show you the reasons why we always have a measure of success. We truly believe the success achieved is due to belief systems, perspective (which is allowed to change freely, BTW) and the willingness to stay the course.

Let’s start gentle… and then we’re going to take the gloves off.

Most writers don’t stall out because they lack talent.

They stall out because they never decide what they’re actually building.

They write a little. Learn a little. Tinker a little. Post a little. Start three things. Abandon two. Revise the same chapter twelve times. Listen to another podcast on “how to grow.” Save a thread. Buy a course. Feel busy. Feel hopeful. Feel tired.

And somehow… still feel behind.

The invisible enemy nobody names

We talk to writers every week who can’t explain what’s wrong, but they can feel it.

  • “I’m doing a lot, but none of it is adding up.”

  • “I feel behind, but I don’t know what I’m behind on.”

  • “I know I need to be more intentional… I just don’t know where to start.”

You should understand that that’s not laziness.

That’s not a discipline problem, either.

That’s drift.

Drift is what happens when effort has no container. When you’re pushing (or like some of us…push-push-puuuush)… but there’s no direction for the push to compound.

And for a long time, you could drift and still get lucky.

You could “see how it goes.”
You could keep everything loose.
You could treat your writing life like a bunch of separate experiments that never had to connect.

Sometimes the internet would accidentally reward that. A post would pop. A reel would hit. Somebody would share your thread. You’d get a spike of attention and tell yourself, “See? I’m fine.”

That window is closing.

Not with drama. Not with headlines.

Quietly. Systemically. Permanently.

2026 isn’t scary. It’s expensive.

Everybody wants to blame AI.

Or platforms.

Or “the algorithm.”

Sure. Those things matter.

But 2026 isn’t scary because tech is changing.

It’s uncomfortable because indecision is getting expensive.

Here’s what’s happening under the surface:

Readers don’t find writers the way they used to.

They don’t browse like they did.
They don’t wander through blogs the same way.
They don’t follow long breadcrumb trails of posts hoping to stumble into someone new.

They ask questions.

They ask search.
They ask recommendation engines.
They ask AI assistants.
They ask the one friend who always has the answer.

And those systems don’t respond to enthusiasm.

They respond to patterns.

Consistency. Clarity. Repetition over time. A visible throughline.

They don’t need you loud.

They need you legible.

If someone lands on your work for the first time…cold…do they know what you’re about in sixty seconds?

Or do they have to “keep scrolling” until they figure you out?

Nobody does that anymore.

“Planning” isn’t the problem. The picture in your head is.

When writers hear “plan,” I can almost hear the internal gag reflex.

Because you’re picturing:

  • spreadsheets

  • rigid schedules

  • hustle culture

  • someone yelling about word counts like your soul is a factory

Yeah… I’d avoid that too. You’ve probably read enough of my work to know that just isn’t me. I’m a simpleton. I tell stories and strive to inspire people and be a catalyst for good.

That’s not what I mean.

A real plan isn’t about controlling your creativity.

It’s about protecting it.

A plan answers the questions you’re already paying for—because you keep avoiding them.

  • What am I actually building?

  • Who is this really for?

  • What does “success” look like for me… not the internet?

  • What am I committing to long enough for it to matter?

Until you answer those, everything feels heavier than it should.

Writing feels muddy.
Marketing feels fake.
Progress feels invisible.

Not because you’re broken.

Because you’re trying to build momentum in five directions at once.

This substack is about solving problems and getting every writer closer to success by telling you the truth. So let’s start now. Below are some actionable steps you can take, right now, today, to advance your career toward success.

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