On the 1st of November, as everyone geared up for NaNoWriMo, I decided to set myself a writing challenge: to write and publish at least 100 words every day.
Not very impressive, I know. But after being almost completely blocked for more than two years, there was absolutely no chance in hell I would be able to write 50,000 words and finish a novel draft like all the NaNoWriMo heroes out there. It would be unwise to aim any higher than I did.
Thirty days later, I am proud to call the experiment a success.
I did not write a masterpiece. …
I had planned the perfect self-improvement schedule for this Saturday: books, podcasts, online courses.
It’s not the most relaxing way to spend a Saturday but, having recently changed careers and started work in a new field, I need to make the most of my weekends if I want to catch up with my peers.
My son was part of the plan, too. I prepared a table with children’s books and two boxes of Legos so he could spend the day playing quietly by my side while I worked.
There was only one problem: his table looked a lot more fun than mine. So much, in fact, that my son felt it would not be right for him to enjoy it alone. …
After giving it a lot of thought, I concluded that my fear of missing a day of writing is irrational.
It is absurd for me to believe that I will fall into another two-year rut just because I let 24 hours go by without posting anything. Complete nonsense.
I understand that the only way to beat my fear is to confront it.
It ends today.
I will not write or publish anything at all for day 27 of my November writing challenge. I will skip it and go straight from day 26 to day 28.
I am not a superstitious man, after all. I know my creativity will not be constrained by such silly rituals. …
I was in the middle of my son’s bedtime story when he interrupted me.
— Wait, let’s finish this page first.
— Okay. What?
— When I am 35 years old just like you are, will I be able to touch the ceiling?
He has been going through this information-seeking stage for a while, as all children do, but I am still thrown off by the timing of his questions.
A couple of days ago my wife and I had to scramble to explain “how flowers worked” while his ice cream melted — he wouldn’t eat until he was satisfied with our answer. …
As this challenge approaches its end, I am worried that I might drop my newly-recovered writing habit without the daily obligation to publish something here.
It’s illogical, of course, but that is how I ended up being blocked the last time.
I started by missing one day. Then I thought it would be fine to miss the next one, then another.
I missed nearly two years of writing, one day at a time.
On the one hand, the need to write and publish something every day is a source of stress and anxiety. …