In 2020, I'd like to write 100 posts.

Every other year or so, I undergo the ritual of setting up a blog and posting a couple times, before I run out of things to say or get distracted or let anxiety build up and hold me back from continuing.

So here we go again.

Why might it be different this time?

  1. I have things to say now. Funny how more life experience will do that to ya. I have a backlog of topics, thoughts knocking around my head for the last few weeks.
  2. I’ll probably have more free time. I’m winding down client work for a while to focus on self-initiated work.
  3. I’m better at hitting target numbers than setting recurring routines. I tend to work in spurts and let my brain recharge in between, rather than chipping away at a problem steadily.
  4. I’ve built a stronger foundation. I’ve been journaling semi-regularly over the last few years, so I’ve gotten practice using writing to untangle my thoughts. Now I focus less on the craft and more on the ideas. The writing’s just a byproduct. There’s gonna be a lot of clumsy prose this year, but that’s fine, because…
  5. I’ve realized nobody cares what I do. There’s so much other shit happening on the internet that hardly anyone is going to look at this. 

(By the way, thank you for your time and attention. It’s a finite resource. Close this and send a message to someone you care about.)

(Okay, you’re gone now, right?)

Now, why might it be the same?

  1. Not enough positive feedback to motivate me to write more. All my sustained behavioral changes from the last 5 years (playing music, journaling, therapy) are just coping mechanisms for when I feel bad. Sure, nobody cares what I do, but what if that means I don’t get that dopamine to keep me going?
  2. Writing for journaling (the easy stuff) might not translate to writing for public sharing. I might try too hard to sound smart and write good. I might hate the way my written voice sounds. I might get self-conscious, worry about the bad impression I’m leaving on future clients and employers and students, and clam up.

And why am I doing this? Lately, I’ve been increasingly concerned with how cloudy my thinking has gotten, especially in conversations. I either stay super quiet, unable to process information quickly enough, or overcompensate and rush to move the conversation forward without really listening and responding to what the other person is saying. This is me trying to sort of work around that roadblock. Writing helps me think — will asynchronous thinking help me prep for synchronous conversations?

Like my goal last year, this is really a shoot-for-the-moon-and-land-amongst-the-stars kind of situation. (Always feel icky this saying this. The nearest star is 100 million times farther from Earth than the moon is.) I’ll save that story for another post, but last year’s exercise led to some really nice surprises. I’m not sure where this year will lead. That’s the fun part.

The fine print: Longer than a tweet. (Tweetstorms don’t count.) Will be posted mostly here, but I’ll count other essays and posts published elsewhere if those opportunities arise.

Inspired by my 100-things internet friends Visakan Veerasamy and Jinjin Sun.

Post 1/100 for 2020.