Reflections on a year of daily blogging

Showing up.

Okay, technically it hasn’t been daily blogging. I do give myself (and you) the weekends off.

But on February 28, 2019, I wrote my first article and clicked “publish.” And I’ve done it every weekday since then. And I have learned a lot over the past year.

There are two things that stand out the most. Unsurprisingly, they mirror the themes I like to talk about in my articles.

The first is the power of commitment. Pia Silva told me to just start writing even though I didn’t know what I wanted to say. She told me that I didn’t need to have all the answers — I could write my way into the answers. Something just clicked. Suddenly, writing wasn’t optional — it was an agreement between me and myself, unshakeable and inviolable. It was the necessary solution to problems I had never had the clarity to identify; the path to wherever I was headed. Writing became an unquestioned priority, and I watched in awe as the rest of my life bent to make room for it.

I’ve written articles in at least ten different U.S. states. I’ve written on buses, in cars, on trains and planes. I’ve written well after bedtime and well before dawn. I’ve written in countless coffee shops and numerous Airbnbs and hotel rooms. I’ve written outdoors and under covers. I’ve written before going under general anesthesia for a medical procedure; I’ve written after rowing for an hour in a Cornish pilot gig on a cold morning. Writing has simply become something that I do, whether I feel like it or not.

The second big lesson was the power of practice. In yesterday’s post I talked about knitting one hundred sweaters (three down, ninety-seven to go!); I can safely say that writing one hundred articles helps you to get a lot better at writing articles. And now I’ve written more than 250.

Some writing sessions are harder than others, but it’s so much easier now than it was in the beginning. I’m no longer afraid of running out of ideas, getting stuck, or having to publish something I feel awful about because I ran out of time. I just sit down and expect an article to show up, and that’s what happens. That makes things sound magical, and sometimes it feels that way — but I assure you, it’s not. It’s a muscle I’ve strengthened.

The biggest surprise of my whole blogging experience has been the sense of peace I have gained. I used to feel uneasy when it came to my work. Even though I was doing things that made a positive contribution to my community, there was more I wanted to share. I felt unfulfilled, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing. Now, I have a sense of forward motion that quiets the nagging voice inside. I am doing the most important work, day by day; I am sharing my vision with the world, little by little. There is still more that I want to do and create, but the unease has been replaced by a feeling of anticipation.

I am grateful that you are here, reading. Two months in, I realized that writing for myself would not be enough, and then you came along. I try not to overthink that part of it in a way that would cause me to second-guess what I create and share, but it means a lot to me that you take the time to visit and connect. I’d like to say that the whole thing would be worth it even without an audience, but I don’t think that’s true. Without you, I would not have made it a year. Thank you.

I had thought that maybe when I hit the one-year mark, I would slow down and maybe only publish once a week. But now that the milestone has arrived, I can’t think of a good enough reason to stop. Until it’s time for the next challenge, I’ll keep writing.

And what about you? Is there a creative dream that you’ve been longing to realize? May I nudge you, just like Pia nudged me, to simply begin?

Maybe you’ve already thought about the downside; but what if there were an upside beyond your ability to imagine at this moment?

Feel free to think it over for a couple of days and get back to me — I’ll be here.