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Bah. Writing Daily Sucks.
Ten days have elapsed since I fell off the horse of daily writing.
The views weren’t there, my stats were poor, at best. They fluctuated like a mail delivery, maybe five views today, three tomorrow or none on Thursday. It simply wasn’t worth it, why flagellate myself every day at the computer for the enjoyment (hopefully!) of just a handful of people? On the very day it felt too much, I discovered a writing competition for 4,000 words of non-fiction and a book pitch with a £20,000 first prize. The only problem was 32 hours until the deadline.
I nailed it, starting at 4pm, using research I had gathered last year, I wrote ceaselessly into the night, beginning again at 6am in bed. I submitted at 11.13pm, just 47 minutes before the deadline. Every last part of my spirit that I could draw upon had been poured into that work, I was depleted. The next couple of days left me vacant and gormless, dissolved into confusion, errant concentration and desperately seeking some drive.
Two things had changed. Firstly, I had poured my soul into a 32 hours of intense writing. Secondly, I stopped writing. Could it really be possible that dropping my daily writing practice had such a harmful effect on my ability to work and focus?
The cessation of my daily writing had also followed a “screw you!” moment, which felt emancipatory, yet it was…
