#355 How to know what you’re meant to write about
Before I write, I barely know what I want to write.
The more I write, the more I know what I’m meant to write.
Intention can be there before the practice. But meaning only shows up when YOU show up.
Before I write, I barely know what I want to write.
The more I write, the more I know what I’m meant to write.
Intention can be there before the practice. But meaning only shows up when YOU show up.
After writing over 300 daily blog posts (and journaling for 926 days), here’s my main takeaway:
Once you decide you’re responsible for writing that daily sentence, learning that language, doing that workout…
Once you decide you’re responsible for making it happen, no matter the circumstances or external events (travel, sickness, emergencies,…)
That’s when you’ll notice that there are very few excuses that truly stop you from making it happen.
And that’s when you have the opportunity to become who you’ve always wanted to be.
“It’s too late for this.”
“The world isn’t ready for that.”
Both are invalid excuses to not do the work.
You’ll always fall behind.
And you’ll always be ahead of your time.
All you can do is getting the most out of the now, while keeping in mind the past and keeping an eye on the future.
Passion is writing whenever you can.
Discipline is writing even when you can’t.
At any given time in your day, if you’re doing what you set out to do, whether it’s work, play, going for a walk, or taking a nap, you’re gaining traction. In other words, you’re taking action and are moving towards a goal you set… and you’re becoming more of the person you want to be.
If you’re not doing what you set out to do, you’re getting distracted. You’re taking action and are moving away from the goal you set… and you’re becoming less of the person you want to be.
Traction, distraction… it’s all action. The only difference: are your actions deliberate, and have you intentionally chosen who you want to be (and which actions align with that identity)?
I can consciously set out, in advance to write for two hours a day, because I want to be a writer. Then, if I end up actually writing during those two hours, I’m gaining traction towards that goal and the person I want to be: a writer.
I can also consciously set out, in advance, to watch a Netflix series afterward as a reward for my hard labor, because I want to be someone who also allows downtime and relaxation in my day.
And if during that time I set out to watch that series, I actually watch the series, guess what: I’m gaining traction towards that goal and identity too! (BUT following this logic, if during the time I set aside for Netflix, I decide to keep writing, strangely enough, the writing has now become the distraction. This is how you become a workaholic.)
If I set out to meet with friends, or have a romantic date night because I want to be someone who values friendships and relationships, and I follow through… yep, now I’m gaining traction in that domain too.
The same goes for anything else I consciously decide to do on any given day.
Choose for traction and let your actions be a vote for who you want to be.
And the next day, it rains.
And the next day, the sun shines bright.
And every day, we show up, and we fight.
656 days ago, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day.
That’s an inner dialogue of 1968 pages poured into piles of journals now safely stuffed away.
30 days ago, some of those thoughts started making their way to my blog.
I promised myself that if I made it to 30 daily posts in a row, I would start sharing them.
Today is the day, so here goes.
I’m sharing daily observations about language, language learning, memory, creativity, habits, discipline, the art of learning, tools for thought.
Lessons I’ve learned.
Insights I’ve earned.
Words I’ve heard.
Memories spurred.
Books I’ve read.
Poems flowing out of my heart and head.
No rules, no fixed topic, no niche, no marketing strategy.
Nothing but whatever’s on my mind.
I’ve learned a lot so far, but the most important insight: there’s power in publishing imperfect work.
Because if I allow myself to create something imperfect every day, I’m certain that someday the sum of all these imperfect creations will be something I’m proud of.
It’s liberating.
Maybe there’s liberating power in reading someone else’s imperfect work too.
I can’t wait to find out together with you.
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