Nobody really cares, but I do

Saturday, July 1, is scheduled to be the day I post something on this blog for the 700th day in a row. July 31 marks the ends of two years of consecutive daily blogging.

So, of course, right on time, Resistance is starting to rear its ugly head.

“Nobody really cares except you.”

“All those words you’re writing could be going into the novels.”

“You could be catching up on your sleep when the day job gets busy.”

“Nobody really cares except you. Really!”

Oh, these are the times they warned us about, Steven Pressfield talking about the Resistance, Seth Godin and The Dip, and all those other writers who have gone through the self-doubt and the second-guessing that apparently comes with the territory.

Never mind that I have been averaging nearly 10,000 words a month.

Never mind that I have never achieved this level of consistency in my non-day-job writing in several decades of wanting to.

Never mind that I just published my fourth book comprised mostly of selections from those almost 700 posts.

There’s an annoying little corner of my brain that says those aren’t “real” books. “Real” books are novels, don’t you know.

The good news is I have finally been around long enough to laugh at myself for taking those little nagging doubts seriously for a few seconds.

First, the streak is real and tangible and something I am proud of.

Second, I can say from past experience in this skin that, if I stopped blogging every day, it’s very possible I would stop writing every day, period.

Third, hey! I’m having fun doing this! Ya wanna make somethin’ out of it?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get started on tomorrow’s post.

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