The self-doubt is creeping in. I’ve published 12 blog posts in a row, all written on the fly with minimal editing, and with rare exception, minimal planning. I get up, I write, I publish.
I needed to break out of a rut. I was writing privately, a lot of nothing, and frankly, I was trying too hard. I was putting pressure on myself to write a cerain way, to write a certain type, to write meaningfully, to write big ideas, to provoke thought, to write something different, to go beyond myself. I felt like I was pressing against an elastic wall, and private writing wasn’t helping me break through.
Then I said the hell with it. This isn’t working for me. I’ve got to get out of my notebooks. I’ll just write. I’ll write on my blog, and maybe sometimes something good will come out.
And for the first few days that was good. And I was good. I started getting streak notices: You’re on a 3-day streak on Butterfly Mind! Then 6-day, 10-day, 12-day. Today will be 13.
Then I made the mistake of reading my posts and I’m like, who cares? Why would I publish this instead of just hiding it safely in my journal?
I mean, I know why I did it. I know why I do it even though it’s lot safer inside my elastic-walled bubble. I am more disciplined, and I examine my work more closely when what I write might actually be read. Sometimes I even choose better words for the published post than the ones I used in the first draft. Sometimes I like what I wrote enough to give it that much care. When I publish, I’m working on the craft of writing in a way I don’t when I just dump my brain in a journal.
Still, I second guess. I see all the flaws, the mediocrity, the lack of action, or tension, or point. I try to remember that perfection is not the goal, but improvement is. If I keep writing, sometimes something special will happen.