So apparently I was in a fantastic, ambitious, conquer-the-world sort of mood this weekend. I was on top of things. I had it all together. Sunday, I was chilling out, basking in my momentary "having-it-all-togetherness," when I suddenly decided that I was going to act on my promise to "write more."
You know, when I work with my clients and they tell me about something they want to accomplish, I have them set very specific and concrete goals. "You want to socialize more? How about going out with a friend once this week." "You want to exercise more? This week, go to the gym twice instead of once." We take it slow. We make concrete plans and we stick to them. Sometimes. If we're lucky.
But when I decide I want to do something, "concrete" and "specific" disappears. Hence the promise to "write more." What "more" means I'm never sure and I am careful to never define. I know better than to box myself in like that. Because I don't define "more," I have left myself able to go through a several month period of not writing, then writing something once and saying "THAT WAS MORE!" because once is more than never. Once I've written something, I can tell myself that I AM writing more for...oh...a good 3 weeks, because writing one time during THIS 3 week period was more than I wrote in the LAST 3 week period, and because I'm
lazy avoidant good at fooling myself like that.
The thing is, though, I feel better when I am writing, and I know that. Even if I write nothing but inane drivel that would bore an earthworm, I just feel better when I write. Writing for me is like having a kid that looks just like me that follows me everywhere. You know the kid that people look between kid and parent and say "there's no denying he/she's yours"? That's how Writing and I are. There's no denying we need to be together. Right now, though, Writing is much less like a cute little kid that wants to be just like mom, and much more like the angsty teenager that stays in her bedroom blaring loud, angsty music, wearing black clothes and eyeliner and piercing her lip and her eyebrow and lord only knows what else while refusing to be seen in public with me because...well just because. And honestly, that's fine, because if she's going to act like that, I don't much want to be seen in public with her either, even if she's mine and we belong together.
So back to this weekend. I was bopping along with my happy self on Sunday when I decided that I was going to "write more" for real, and that I was going to hold myself accountable. Yep yep. I took my unusually motivated self over to the BlogHer website and signed up for May's NaBloPoMo, which means, for those unfamiliar, that I am going to write a blog post every day for the month of May. So there is my "concrete and specific" plan (so much for taking it slow). I will write 31 blog posts in 31 days. My inner behavioral psychologist is happy with this plan. My Writer just turns up the music in her iPod and practices her best blank "I don't give a crap" stare. The rest of me thinks I must just be one taco short of the combination plate.
I'll be honest: I don't expect to be successful with this plan. There is going to be a day or two (or nine or ten) when I don't post. It's going to happen. But I'm going to try anyway, because as it was, I wasn't moving anywhere, was feeling generally stuck, and this is motivation. And I need to practice failing anyway. It'll be good for me. (It's okay, sometimes I laugh at the things I tell myself, too).
So if I fail...don't laugh. If I write boring posts of no substance and have nothing to say...tell me I had a really winning title. If I write posts that make no sense in which I'm clearly falling asleep, or posts in which I become Grumpy McGrumperson, or posts in which I do nothing but complain...know that someday I will have something interesting and insightful and funny and deep to say and check back after a couple months. Or shoot me a prompt in the comments as an attempt to save your bleeding eyes.
You know, I've never done this before, but it would seem I'm on a roll. After all, I wrote this today, which would indicate that I'm writing more. And isn't that the goal?
Mission accomplished...for at least another 24 hours.