#296 You don’t need motivation

Writing isn’t hard. Writing every day is – until it isn’t anymore.

That’s when writing becomes hard.

Build the habit, then you get a shot at building the skill.

The 1 minute you decide not to spend on writing.

The one sentence you decide not to read in the language you’re learning.

The one message you don’t send to a friend or relative.

The one Tiny Trust Builder that got away.

Luckily, tomorrow is a new day?

You only need to stick to one new habit to prove to yourself that you can change.

One habit. One small activity. One Teeny Tiny Trust Builder where you don’t give up, but stay on track.

Why would you make this hard on yourself?

Write one sentence a day.

Learn one word a day.

Meditate for 1 minute.

Make it ridiculously small if you want.

But stick with it.

Stick with it on day one. And the next day. And the next. And also on the day when the universe seems to conspire against you.

Stick with it, because that one silly little activity can be the start of a changed life.

Here’s a question Tim Ferris asks startup founders (and himself) when deciding to invest time and money into a new project:

“If, in one (or two, or three) years from now, this whole project has failed miserably… Which assumptions you hold today were proven wrong?”

Tim Ferris

Answering the question first requires defining failure and success.

For my project of publishing a daily insight on this blog success looks like this:

Write & publish.

Edit.

Write & publish.

Edit.

Then write & publish some more.

Good, bad, well-received or not, received or read by anyone at all, it doesn’t matter.

Because first of all, writing is a creative outlet for me.

Second: long as I write & publish consistently, I trust I will get better at writing and publishing.

Finally: I trust that from all that sculpting away, day by day, will come better and better insights.

A pretty low bar for success – which, counterintuitively, often leads to more progress long-term.

Now we have established that:

What are the assumptions that could be wrong if next year, it turns out I failed to write & publish every day?

Here are some I can think of:

• Writing and publishing every day is going to be a long-term fulfilling activity for me
• I am truly fine with writing and publishing without anyone ever reading it
• I am fine spending considerable time on starting a new project that I might never monetize
• Writing & publishing every day really leads to better writing skills and interesting insights (although even if this assumption is false, it wouldn’t necessarily stop me from writing.)

Will these assumptions be proven wrong?

Only time will tell.

Until then… I write & publish… then write & publish some more.