I shouldn’t have waited this long to write. 63 days ago, I started a challenge (for myself) to write at least 300 words (and publish) every day up until October 6th. That didn’t quite happen. I ended up publishing 38 days out of this experiment. This was a tough assignment I gave myself as it was harder than I thought it would be. There were days where the last thing I wanted to do was write, I made excuses not to publish and put too much pressure on myself to get something out knowing that it wouldn’t be a piece of significance. However, I’ve learned quite a few things along the way:
- Nobody cares how often I write (and it’s okay)
- Those who do care want me to continue writing
So, I write for them – which in turn – is also for me. 14,050 words later, I realize that these posts have been a reflection of my road to authenticity. To knowing my true self, which is simultaneously painful and delightful.
For me, the process of expressing my thoughts on here has been the outcome of these feelings. Who I am is the perfect combination of these sentiments. No one will know the pains and joys I felt that helped inspire a particular post, but as a result, I’ve been exposed more than ever and somehow my stories have resonated with at least one person.
I’ve written the most on a consistent basis in these past six weeks. The stroke of the keys flow much smoother each time I write. I pay attention to everything I come across that day which in turn influences my story and journey. I’ve been exposed to beautiful music that facilitates my thought process and gives me clarity to compose a story in a way that reflects my experience in the simplest way.
I’m satisfied with my progress, but I also know there’s room for improvement, and the only way that’s possible is to keep writing.