Would you ever deliberately and enthusiastically sign up to something you knew was going to frustrate the hell out of you?
That’s precisely what I did when I started this writing project. And now I find myself totally fed up. Right in the thick of dealing with the fallout…
So, in a delightfully ironic twist, I’m going to try and exorcise some of my frustration with writing by… writing about it.
I mean, why on earth did I sign up for a whole year of commitment to write something every single day? Without having any clear idea beyond that. Just hoping that I’d work things out as time went on.
Sure… It felt like a great and exciting idea at the time. But only a couple of weeks in and it’s already clear that I don’t have a clue. Constantly questioning whether this is the right thing and suspecting that I’m doing it all wrong.
Frustrating?
Yes, for sure! But way more than that. I feel like I’ve screwed up big time. That I’ve voluntarily locked myself into a year of twiddling my thumbs doing pointles stuff.
I mean, I could be going for walks, or working on my business, or reading for pleasure, or working out.
So why am I chained to my desk writing when I have no idea WHAT I’m meant to be writing, WHO I’m writing for, WHY I’m doing it, in what form I’m going to publish this stuff? Or even whether I’ll share it at all. And all that jazz.
There are a million different possible topics. And I could do anything from short tweets to feature length essays.
And am I meant to be writing about things where I have valuable expertise that I can share with others? Or am I working things out for myself as I go along sharing insights and cautionary tales from my journey?
Is it factual or fictional? Is it’s aim to provoke thought or to entertain?
I simply don’t know. And the more I dive into it right now, the more confusing it becomes.
So this has been getting me down.
But then I remembered this sucky situation is precisely the point. This is exactly what I signed up for!
I came into this on a voyage of discovery. I’ve been stuck for years without being able to work out where I’m going.
And I know just “writing” isn’t the answer. But it’s the best lead I’ve got right now. There’s something there. An energy that interests me. A thread that I can’t stop myself pulling on.
So rather than remaining stuck — grasping for something I can almost, but not quite, see — I chose to acknowledge that I can’t possibly work this sort of stuff out in theory.
I chose to get down there and sit happily in the mess. To play around with the different threads and see which ones go where. Knowing full well that I’m going to spend most of my time following dead ends.
So this “write every day” thing was never a carefully thought-out plan.
It was always going to be horribly flawed in all sorts of ways. But I knew I couldn’t even identify the problems — let alone fix them — in advance. The only way was to dive into the mess and flail around in whatever directions took my fancy.
See what breaks. Then ask “why?”. And then maybe (just maybe) consider thinking about a way to fix it.
There’s a lot to recommend this sort of approach. It all sounds noble and straightforward in theory. But at least one huge built-in drawback makes it much harder to deal with in practice…
It works by me constantly banging up against things that I discover are wrong. So frustration and discouragement are baked into the process.
Frustration is the whole point. And I’ve got find a way to manage that!
Because — now that I’m living it rather than merely thinking about it — I hate this.
It feels wrong. And it feels unpleasant.
So that’s why I’m writing this now: to remind myself that I got myself into this with eyes wide open. That it’s necessary. That the only way out is through.
To remind myself that success isn’t feeling comfortable. Or getting the “right answer”.
Instead, it’s jumping into the struggle. Get tired and muddy grappling with the harsh an messy reality.
That’s what I signed up for. With good reason.
If ever I want to fight through to a point where I have some clarity and some peace from my daily writing time, then I’ve just got to get on with it. Take my (horribly flawed) best guess of what to do…
And just do it.
Fail miserably and fall on my arse. Hopefully laugh at myself rather than feeling sorry for myself. Pick myself up. Course correct a bit. Try again.
And keep going.
The arse bruises and dented pride aren’t negative things to worry about. They’re signs that I’m making progress.