When Mark wrote the other day of his troubles with blogging, I started composing a response in my head, with encouragement – likely somewhere along the lines of the title at the top of this post. As it turns out, someone did it for me. A few days later, Ethan Marcotte’s Unstoppable Robot Ninja pointed it’s steely finger to an inspiring “Dear Shaun” letter.
Your $x (whatever your reason for it) is not some fragile vase that is going to shatter the second you $y. It is as strong as you decide it is, and the boundaries are where you set them.
Alison vocalizes something I’m constantly struggling with. She so elegantly reminds us that the slow dogged pursuit of [insert goal here] is not about perfection, but about one boot in front of the other. Even if you only take a step once in a while. However, the more steps you take, the easier it gets to lift your foot.
My Special Lady Friend’s sister is starting a tea company. I encouraged her to start blogging, but I think it took her a while to warm up to it. The last time I saw her she confirmed this, and suggested that the tipping point for her was when she realized she just had to do it. Once she got past that point, things flew along, and she seems to have taken to blogging like the British to, well, tea. This describes about every post I’ve ever written, and is a story any writer is likely to be familiar with.
The guilt of procrastination and the fear of flawed results that creeps into the back of my mind is a constant battle. Yet it’s when we move forward without fear that we can learn and grow. The pursuit of perfection is a noble banner to carry, but in the words of the Kwisatz Haderach, “fear is the mind killer”. More to the point, practice makes perfect. Or perhaps at least it makes for improvement.
Ah, but once again, I’m rambling, and falling into digression (and probably bad english). The above isn’t meant as an exercise in finger wagging (self directed or otherwise), but in writing.
Mr. Floegel, you don’t have to “blog” a lick – but please, pretty please, don’t stop writing.