The nice thing is I can schedule these. The problem being that scheduling doesn’t work the way I expect.
So, I can start them early. And if I don’t revisit them the next day, or later in the day, what I write will nevertheless be committed. Independent of my own actions. And that, that I can get behind.
But. This post was queued to be eternally published tomorrow at 11:00 PM. “Tomorrow” as always being relative to the current time, not the time you set the publish date.
I want to say, it should be like going to the gym. I want to say that I need to deliberately keep the scope narrow, to keep it from consuming me.
I want to say I need the time limit. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.
But I know, my expectations always grow. These quickly inflate to two or three hours ordeals. I know. I lived like that for five years.
The problem won’t be writing every day. The problem will be writing every day for a less than a week, before I make each one of these such an onerous task for myself, such a long and involved and drawn-out ordeal, that they cease to happen at all.
It’s already happening. Just after writing my first post, I’m writing my second post. It’s 10:59 PM. It is not the next day. It is not Day Two. It is still Day One. And yet here I am, turning myself into a basket case, because I am obsessive like that.
I will publish this tomorrow. And perhaps I will add to it tomorrow evening. But for now, I just needed to say that. That I fear this, too, will rise up and consume me… because this is something I cannot control. I want it to be a little bit, a tiny bit, every day. Every single day. My concern will be that it quickly becomes an hour a day, two hours a day, and then… nothing. Crushed beneath its own self-inflicted weight.
