30 days ago I casually set myself the challenge to write a blog post every day this month. As it’s the last day of November it seems fitting to look back on the experience and ask some questions about how it went.
It’s quite obvious to me that I haven’t established a new daily writing practice – I’ve written 12 posts this month, all of them within the first 18 days. This pattern is kind of what I expected; from years of observing myself and noticing how I approach things, I know that I often start with a burst of energy which I struggle to maintain. This month (in this year) brought its own challenges, as well as a noticeable jump in my SAD symptoms, but I think I would have found the pattern to be similar in other months too. I used to get wound up about this, feeling like it was some kind of moral failure to have my enthusiasm taper off, that it was just a matter of working harder, pushing through and all that other bullshit we’ve internalised from the world of ‘proper work’. But now, instead of blaming myself, I’d rather ask questions that help understand why this happens, why this pattern belongs to me. I might start by asking “how is it that I have so much energy to begin with?” and then “is there something that happens that changes things for me? Can I understand where the energy goes or why?” Perhaps there are general circumstances or thought patterns that get me here each time, perhaps in this month it was specific things (migraines I’m looking at you). Either way, I’m interested in what was going on, how I was feeling and how that lead to me writing or not writing.
A daily practice takes longer than a month to establish, so I’m not too concerned that it didn’t happen this time. I’m also not completely sure that I wanted a daily blog writing practice – it does sound like an awful lot of work. Was it realistic to expect that I could continue this indefinitely? Does that even feel like something I would do? The honest answer is no. That’s not me. I am not a daily blog writing person. But I am a person who would like to write more often. This year my blog posts slowed down to one a month or fewer. For perfectly acceptable reasons. But, now, at the end of the year as I begin to realise that my capacity for looking forward has increased, this slow timetable doesn’t feel like enough. And it’s from this place that the slightly extreme 30 day challenge emerged – I wanted to write more and so I swung the needle to the opposite end, thinking that would be the answer. Of course it wasn’t, but it did lead me to notice the resistance around my writing and the possibilities ahead.
So often, when reviewing things, we’re asked to consider whether it was a success or not. Even when we are careful enough to qualify this language (‘what is your definition of success?’) I still feel that this presents an unconscious judgement. Does everything need to be viewed as a success or failure?
I wrote 12 posts this month. That’s a year’s worth (by my current schedule). These are the facts. They are neutral. I am the one who makes them good or bad. I could choose to view this as a failure (I didn’t manage to write 30 blog posts) or a success (I wrote more than I have written in a year). Do either of these interpretations help me? Do they allow me to understand myself and the task I undertook better? I’m not sure. I sometimes feel that by framing activities into whether they went well or not focuses on the outcome more than the process. An outcome-focused review holds productivity and analytical data as ideals. A process-focused review allows for a more nuanced reading of the situation.
When I review things now, I spend more time trying to understand how I felt during the process, whether I acted in ways that made me feel good or aligned with my values. This kind of inquiry means that no matter what was done, what was accomplished, there is something to learn, something important to acknowledge. This challenge offered me a way to show up and write my blog more regularly – something I had been hesitant to do. By choosing not to impose a rigid structure on the blog posts I allowed myself to notice how and when I felt inspired to write, what sparked something, what conditions felt right. It also gave me the freedom and the grace not to write, to be ok with not doing. Those days, far from being an easy option, offered more encounters with the inner critic, and how I wanted to speak to myself. How much of this would I have learnt if I had forced myself to write each day, if I had decided the topics in advance?
I don’t have a daily writing practice. But I have an ongoing practice of reflection and review that extends beyond the yearly or seasonal. I make sure I take a bit of time at the end of any distinct activity – a monthly challenge, a talk I’ve given, a brief marketing campaign on Instagram. I do not save reflection for important projects or big deadlines; I review almost everything I do. This process – of asking questions, of seeing how things felt, of acknowledging where my energy went, of noticing how my expectations were met or not – seems to have had the most significant effect on me and my work. I am learning as I go; there are no big revelations in January. I can link things together better and respond more honestly to things that come up next. And yet, this process of regular review and reflection can be one of the easiest things to forget to do. So quickly do we focus on the next thing on our list.
Which is why I’m here today. Reviewing this challenge here in this final blog post of November, talking about what I’m reflecting on. It would be so easy for me to just let this month go, let it tail off and disappear. To focus on what I want to get done in December and beyond. You probably wouldn’t have noticed, and I could have justified it as another thing that didn’t quite turn out as I expected. But this year is teaching me to listen to the tiniest voice in me, and today that voice was asking me to acknowledge what happened, and to give myself credit for all the things that I do that may not seem so flashy or big, that might not look like they have an impact.
What activities of your own might deserve a bit of time and attention reflecting this week?