Start your Monday morning right, and you are set for the week.
Start January with a flourish….
Well, you get the picture.
This thinking would imply that, if we don’t start out strong that we are hooped – slain before starting, without a middle or an end, because our beginning was faulty.
Maybe I should write the perfect self-help book, just about beginnings.
Start the day, start the week, start the year.
I have already. I publish a column very early every morning. I publish 100 words + an inspirational quote early every Monday morning. I publish a weekly newsletter and interviews very early every Tuesday morning.
Every morning, very early, I write.
Every morning, very early, I polish and edit things I’ve written.
Every morning, very early, I prepare for my day by flexing my writing muscles. Sure, I exercise too – but that walking, that visit to the treadmill, that sitting outside sipping coffee – those are just preparation for the day, like warmup exercise for the writing of the day. But there is no money to be made that way, is there?
Sure, I can publish some things, and hopefully, someone will buy them, but there is no benefactor, no funding source. Hold it, there are. I’ve never thought of that before – which doesn’t mean I haven’t been aware. I know there are funding sources, grants, etc. available to writers but never thought of tossing my hat in that kind of contest. Maybe I could. Perhaps I should.
Maybe, I shouldn’t. It was nice to think about for a minute or two, but instinctively, it strikes me as very wrong.
What I have learned from giving away my thoughts is that some days, they are brilliant, some days not at all? Most days, they are high-quality mumblings worth reading. My audience began with six, and most days, it is about 6,000 – so something is working out alright.
Some days I question the value – so many words, so many never read; so many hours putting ink and paper together, most often forgetting them soon after because I’ve moved on to writing the next ones, and then the next. Easy to switch to other pursuits with less work and easier to achieve rewards.
But that isn’t it. Never was. Writing satisfies a need – some days the need the bleed, some days the need to shout from a rooftop. There is no end to this, I am sure. I’ll be writing all of my days, and with a long life expectancy, I’ve probably not even reached a mid-point of skill development. But I know I’m beyond that on other things. Knowing the difference between what matters and what just flows. Knowing the difference between readability and something worth reading.
There is change brewing, it’s been percolating for a while, ready for spilling soon.
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