It has been six months since my last check-in post. A lot has changed since then. Here is what I had to say back in late December 2019:
This post should really be titled “Eh” because that’s how I feel about the past year of writing. I have gone from my 2017 goal of Write a Novel to a 2018 goal of Write Everyday to a 2019 goal of Write 1,000 Words a Day, Five Days a Week. All have failed. What could I possibly feel good about?
That was true then. I felt really bad about my writing because the contrast between my words and my actions was so glaring. It is not an exaggeration to say that I thought picking up a pen and immediately writing a novel would be easy. But I did – and instead of writing a novel, I wrote pretty much nothing. With hindsight, it is a great lesson that you should always start with small goals. And I guess there are worse things than taking three years to settle on something more manageable – I could have taken ten.
Now, here is my writing as of June 8th, 2020:
- 85,000 words published on the blog
- 70 posts
- 12 weeks since I started writing in the morning
- 7 straight weeks of the newsletter
What changed? Mostly, I just re-prioritized my time. I started writing first thing in the morning, instead of working out. Running became a second order concern, and writing a first. I wrote back in May, about quitting coffee, that we “miss the role that external catalysts play in jumpstarting our actions.” That is what happened here. I woke up the first morning of quarantine, and thought: Why not write before work? Everything else in my day had changed, so changing one more thing was easy. And the rest followed from there.
I also took a page from the author Neil Gaiman’s playbook: “I’m allowed to sit at my desk, I’m allowed to stare out at the world, I’m allowed to do anything I like, as long as it isn’t anything… All I’m allowed to do is absolutely nothing, or write.” Re-framing the time that I’m sitting at my computer, in front of the blank page, from a period in which I have to produce something to a period in which I can’t do something has been revolutionary. I can’t force myself to write – but I can force myself to sit stubbornly at the table for two hours on a given day. More likely than not, sitting in front of a blinking cursor for long enough will end up with some words on the page. And if not, so what? Gaiman’s framework has taken a lot of the pressure off. (Though I’m still human, and still want to hurl my computer across the room anytime the words aren’t flowing).
All of this is to say that a lot has changed in six months. I feel like I’m developing a habit. I feel like I’m becoming a writer. When I have an idea, I want to jot it down for later. I have gotten some positive feedback that I am extremely grateful for. The atrophied muscle is slowly building itself up to where it doesn’t take a manic level of inspiration for me to sit down and write.
What are you trying to accomplish? What are you struggling with? I am always looking for people to commiserate with (write me at [email protected])