The more I write the more doubts I collect. I am grateful for all the learnings and the growth, I cannot deny it. But the enthusiasm of the beginning is fading away. Writing every day with the intent to publish is not the same as writing in my private journal. I can feel those few pairs of eyes reading these lines and I cannot help but think about their reactions.
Since I am writing for my future self, these writings are for me, first of all. So I am part of my audience. I have, at least, an audience of one. But knowing that I am sharing these thoughts of mine with a few hundred people makes me think really hard.
The good news is that, well, I am writing, every day. Not only in my journal but in this eclectic sequence of minimal, abstract, sometimes surreal illustrations along with about 200 words of text.
I felt the fluidity of the Shipping 30 for 30 Challenge. It was fun. It was exhilarating. I was reflecting aloud about what I have been doing in private, journaling, for a few hundred days.
What worked was my being full of experiences, reflections, inspirations, thoughts, discoveries, stories. Really, I just had to curate my long list of drafts. It was so easy writing 30 small articles in 30 days I could not believe I did it.
And there was the public commitment and the incentive of sharing with a small group of fellow shippers which helped a lot.
And then: it all stopped. I’ve experienced again the hedonic adaption. When it ended I felt the inertia going, that’s why I’ve reached 51 in a row, exactly today, with this post.
But while the first 30 have a strong theme, a great package, a title, a foundational experience to refer to, now I feel like I am not able to recreate those conditions. So I went back, like a rubber band, to going broad and sidewise on the plethora of things passing through my head. Not very well connected.
The worst feeling is that I perceive this daily task as a choir. I am still not sure why I should do it, although I am perfectly aware of the derived benefits, and, being lazy and still not disciplined, I end up usually rushing it, almost despising it. I don’t always enjoy writing daily blog posts. The only positive feeling is the one of having done it. So, I ask myself, why? Is this a prescription?
It could be. Or better, I am prescribing myself another 50 days of daily writing and publishing.
I’ve got the prompt for writing this article by reading how and why other great minds wrote. It resonates, vividly, what George Orwell wrote in his Why I Write.
So, thank you, George.