I’m a huge fan of discipline.
In other people. I prefer to hire that trait.
Writing is hard. Well technically writing is stunningly easy. Writing either consistently or well are both supremely difficult. Doing both? Nigh on impossible for mere mortals. About a week ago I decided to issue a 15 articles in 15 days challenge to myself. A short version of last years fabulously successful 30 posts in 30 days challenge, which resulted in my actually writing a total of 45 articles in that period, five paid and ten published in other publications. I m not attempting that level of prowess this go ’round.
But even though I write a lot for my job, it is still really hard to actually write. I truly love writing. I literally enjoy the process and the machinations of opening the floodgates of my addled mind and corralling the flow into as much sense as I can. Words and stories. Both have appeal to me for differing reasons. My daughter says I am a talker and a “converstioner”. I have been known to engage in periodic conversations on subject varied and sundry.
Before the slip-sliddery-suck of regression wraps its moist tentacles around my intended mental direction, dragging it under to a watery death, I best embark upon my chosen pontification. Which is that I completely, and utterly flubbed it. I let the sixth day of my 15 day challenge pass alone and unwritten into the abyss of unwrittenness.
I apologize deeply to the words that remained unwritten and unedited. If I had an editor, they would have been sorely disappointed in my lack of performance. There would have been sighs and sidelong glances and tsk tsks aplenty. Due to the very undemocratic nature of the internet and the blaspheme of computers I can, and in fact will, retroactively pre-date this article to have been posted on the day it should have been written. Not the date it was actually written. Because when one doesn’t have discipline or talent one can often be found telling bald-faced lies or surreptitiously changing dates in order to remove the sting of deadlines.
