“Announce it on Facebook. Write a blog post. Tell your neighbor. Do something declare to the world your commitment to write for 31 days straight.”
There’s a good chance that I’m biting off more than I can chew, since I’m the Queen of Finding Excuses, but I signed up for one of those “use this writing prompt” club thingies for the next 31 days to try and kick myself into shape. My writing has been pretty lazy (read: nonexistent) the past few months and it’s honestly been eating away at me during my day to day. Some days I think I could be really great if I’d just follow through, and other days I honestly don’t care if I’m any good–I just need to write. I need to be heard. I need to share the thoughts clanging around in my head like pots and pans precariously perched in a cupboard.
It bears mentioning that part of the rules for this writing commitment is that I have to reach 500 words for each sitting and I have to do my very best to “free-write” (that means no editing my thoughts before posting). This is a decently horrifying notion; I think I tend to feel like what I have to say needs to be edited for it to sound good or even for people to accept it for what it is. I think my writing is an extension of myself, and I’m so gosh darn serious sometimes that I feel like some sort of wailing, inconvenient prophet shouting doomsday at everything that seems to be so easily accepted. Every time I sit down to write, this rushing fount of questions and concerns and feelings comes pouring out of my fingers and onto the page/screen and I just want to tell myself to lighten up and just chill out. Write about something funny and light for goodness sake, and also stop wasting your platform on frivolity. Oh, the double mindedness of my psyche.
Regardless of all that, I’m gonna do this. I think I heard tell that it takes about twenty-one days to fully cement a new habit into your daily routine, so in theory I’ll be the most diligent of all writers. It feels presumptuous to call myself a writer since I dedicate so little time to it, but I’m going to try to shut up my obnoxiously overt self-awareness and just do it.
Just do it.
(It was too easy, I’m sorry.)
But seriously, if I can get through this I’m going to be really proud of myself–kind of how I feel about still going to dance lessons. No one made me do that; I just started and have kept going and here we all are nearly 10 months later. I think it’s the things that no one made you do that feel the most wonderful about following through with. I’m notorious for not following through, but I don’t think I’m nearly as bad as I used to be, and I don’t have to accept that as part of my story.