(30) ONE MONTH!!!!

Thirty days of writing consecutively! Here are some things that did not happen:

  1. fame
  2. wealth
  3. being more sober more often
  4. thick, luxurious, hair in a careless bun that looks feminine and smart whilst I type on an actual typewriter
  5. organization
  6. any sort of niche discovery

Hubs says it takes 30 days to develop a new habit, so I fully expect it to be smooth sailing for the next 335 days, yup. I’m very reasonable and sciencey.

Without the snark, though, writing daily has been challenging. I love to write, but I’d never applied much discipline to it. My best bits of writing have always come from some place ripe and ready. Even in longer works, like an essay or a story, certain paragraphs or scenes will march across a mental stage in stark costume and color, with confidence and a transparency that catches the lights without manipulation or effort. I’ve never gotten paid to write, and so I have had the luxury of whim and desire on my side any time I’ve decided to put my shredded experience to paper. The lack of discipline, and my success with various rare paragraphs, made me believe the best writing should be undisciplined (for me, at least). I, as a classical musician, should have known that notion was entirely idiotic, but I didn’t and so the last month has been a fucking face rash in summer heat.

With music, any time I hit a plateau in terms of growth or motivation, I can always lilt away the hours by focusing on technique or old repertoire. Even if I’m prepping a specific program, I can detach from the rep and just zone in on pitch and rhythm accuracy, or vibrato speed, or sound quality/variance. Being burnt out and lackluster never automatically detracts from the time I put into the skill. I can hibernate in the technique until I’m ready to engage again. It’s not an optimal approach, but it definitely helps prevent deterioration while other parts are healing in their own way and time.

With writing, I often feel as though I have no technique. Which, horrifying. Also: fucking horrifying wtf. But that feeling singed me daily when I realized that lack of an idea meant I had little else to do with my daily post. And, I expect it will continue to follow me, shrieking, down the halls of skill management and idea organization for at least the rest of this accursed year. I hope to get lucky, I guess. I hope that the next few months push me to take more time with my ideas. I want to be better at turning a fuzzy post idea into a well rounded, cohesive, page. I will write through the next few months, dragging my confidence to its reluctant feet word by word if I have to. I’ll do it, and then we’ll see what I have to say about technique. I guess.