Isn’t creating targets and deadlines for something you are
doing for yourself self-defeating? Why stress yourself out, force yourself to
do something which you love doing anyway?
Because otherwise I’d never do the thing I love to do.
I wrote non-stop in December in January, almost writing the
same number of posts that I had written ever since I started this blog, ten
years ago. Yeah TEN. I started it as a stress buster and because I liked
putting words together and watching stories emerge. I became a part of a group
who enjoyed reading each other’s words and that kept all of us going.
And then other things took over. It wasn’t that life got
busier, it was always crazy, but I am not sure why the habit just broke. I made a few full-intentioned but half-hearted attempts to
get back but couldn’t get back. No one was reading my posts anymore, so there
were no commitments to uphold.
A promise made me realize, I could write regularly (even if
it wasn’t always sensible or coherent). Managing time was stressful, so after
the 2nd month, I decided not to make a commitment anymore. To write only when I had the time and the story. And I didn’t
write anything for the next half a month.
Everyone may not need them, but I have realized I do need a clock to run,
even if I am not running in a race.
So here’s another valiant attempt at keeping the blog going,
even if there is no set direction. A post you start with just keying in the words and hoping time would just appear.
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