It’s taken me more than two months to answer a simple question
Why do I still write?
A few months back, my girlfriend Jen asked me this:
Are these Chapters not just the bane of your life now?
Almost immediately and without much thought, I answered ehhh, kinda.
Wait, what?
Instant answer, instant reaction.
If these Chapters are such an inconvenience on my life, why do I still write them?
Each day is a mini-struggle. Each idea I put in to words is met with self-doubt. Each Chapter is a battle of time management, motivation and self-discipline. I could’ve quit a long time ago.
Why do I still write?
For months I didn’t have an answer. I wasn’t particularly fussed about finding one, but a question left unanswered sticks around. It creeps about at the back of the mind, resurfacing periodically to demand you consider its query once again.
Why do I still write?
Then, yesterday, I came up with the answer.
Chapter One.
Not because I’m self-disciplined. Not because I’m motivated. Not because I simply want to see it through to the end.
No. Chapter One is the answer. That’s why I still write.
Public commitments tend to be lasting commitments.
I know a lot of people who say they’re going to do things. You probably do too.
I’m going to travel the world!
I’m going to stop smoking!
I’m going to go out and get my dream job!
Sound familiar?
These people love making big, verbal commitments. Commitments that could be misheard, or mispoken. Commitments that aren’t really commitments at all. They’re just words, spoken in the heat of the moment, when motivation has peaked and they think everyone needs to know it.
We’ve all been there, one time or another. Those words we speak feel powerful at the time. They’re the start of a new journey and, right there and then, they mean something.
Once the motivation has dissipated though, they’re just words again. We’re suddenly inconsistent in our efforts to be consistent, and it’s not a welcome feeling.
Commitment is doing the thing you said you’d do long after the mood you said it in has left you.
Do you remember what Chapter One was called? The Commitment.
It was a public promise, an obligation to daily writing that I wanted everyone to see. But, above all else, it was a written statement of intent. Rather than kick this all off by writing about myself as I did in Chapter Two and rolling from there, I started by visualising the goal: I want to achieve one year of daily blogging.
There it was, plain as day. No hyperbole, no big verbal promise that I could later back down from once I’d inevitably failed. It was written, and I made sure everyone I cared about read it.
Suddenly, daily writing was a feature of the personal image I projected at others, and inwards at myself. I had now not only developed a desire to write every day and achieve my goal, I also felt committed to remaining consistent with how others saw me, and how I saw myself.
If I failed, my consistency would falter, and that’s something no self-respecting human can live with. Because when you stand for something publicly, there is an always-on appetite to remain in that position or else look foolish in your inconsistency.
QoTD
“The strongest force in the human personality is the need to remain consistent with how you define yourself.”
- Tony Robbins
Thanks for reading Chapter 114.
This Chapter was influenced by Robert B. Cialdini’s book Influence (ironic, right?). I highly, highly recommend you read it.
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