So, I got nine days into my 30 day challenge and it all went a bit wrong. There are reasons. A full-time job that has required some extra cover. A week where I barely saw my daughter after which I felt it not just right but as necessary as breathing to spend more time with her wherever possible. A few late nights in a row…. I guess reasons start to sound like excuses in the end. And I can’t deny I’m disappointed with myself.
Still, I think even in nine days – and there is nothing stopping me simply restarting for a week or so, and I might still, since the desire is there – I learned the crucial lessons I was trying to hard to break into my thick skull that knew them but also didn’t. I learned that writing every day, and coming up with ideas from nowhere (when I’m so used to incubating them endlessly until they’re almost overbaked by the time they spill out) is possible – you can, if you want, force some creativity and it might be great, okay or utterly rubbish but it shall come. I learned that sharing a piece of writing in a raw, doughy, shapeless mass need not be terrifying. Most of the time, in fact, no-one will read it and there is an almost inexpressible freedom in that. When you suspect only four people are actually paying attention, it’s astonishingly liberating. I’m sure there is lots of common sense in writers seeking to be published professionally to think of audiences and tone, yadda yadda, but when you write just for the sake of removing the flaking orange rust from the dark cogs of your mind it’s so much more satisfying to please no audience except yourself. The skill of editing is a lesson for another day. Today we have just the words.
I might have achieved only a third of my original stated goal, but I broke a frightened thought pattern in my own head, and that was, after all, the point of proceeding. And an idea for something to actually do with all these fragments has also occurred to me… if I can keep that thought pattern broken for long enough to attempt to achieve it.
But first, I think, a little more writing. Maybe today (does this count?), maybe not. But soon. And more often. And happier.
MOKUSKA 
When I had a little one, I barely wrote at all. I had a few articles and some interviews published in some regional magazines and that was it. I was teaching full time, had a toddler and all of that was more than I could handle.I think the fact that you got a third of the way through is commendable.If I’ve learned one thing about the craft it’s to worry less about what’s not been accomplished and appreciate more what I have achieved—in all areas. : )
Well yes! One thing I didn’t say is that I surprised myself by actually liking some of what I wrote too. So however much it was, it was worth it on multiple levels! Thank you for the awesome pep talks. They mean a lot. X