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In this post, I'm going to talk about creativity and my various successful and unsuccessful attempts at writing every day. If that kind of thing stresses you out, feel free to skip this post!
i first set out the goal of writing every day in 2017. 200 words a day, i told myself. that's an achievable goal. i had friends who wrote 750 words a day (https://750words.com/), 1000 words a day, but i knew that would take me 1+ hour of solid work a day to achieve, and i simply didn't have that energy. in january 2017, i had just been diagnosed with depression a few months before, and i was trying to accommodate my restrictions for the first time in recallable memory. 200 words, on the other hand - i could write 200 words on the bus, on my phone, in class. 200 words was achievable.
and for a long time, it was! i tracked my daily word count in a spreadsheet that looked like this:
in september, i stopped tracking it; note the last edited. i was writing less and less, and i had taken commissions that i wasn't enjoying writing. i still published three pieces, one in september (5k, anew, anew, anew), one in october, (2k, la petite mort), and one in november (2k, in dependence), but the first was a commission, the second was smut for an ex, and the third was a vent piece. my mental health hit a low point that winter, and i spent most of my limited creative energy drawing vent art. i went through two sketchbooks in a very short period of time.
in 2018, i started again. that spreadsheet looks like this.
"Last edit was on January 6, 2018."
i quickly figured out 2018 wasn't going to be a writing year. i was still drawing, and i preferred the freedom of drawing without expectation; my writing had gotten so tangled-up in my 2017 experiment of taking money for my writing, my fading fandom fame, and i had no inspiration and i was second-guessing everything i wrote, everything i published. no one expected me to be good at drawing, including myself, and i could see myself progressing in a way i never could with writing. drawing was fun, even though i felt unable to share my art, and even though i still caught myself comparing my work to more experienced artists.
something else miraculous happened in 2018: i started reading again. not consistently, but i was reading. before this, i hadn't finished a book in years, and i read only sporadically, but in 2018, i read guards! guards!, a long way to a small lonely planet, the entire temeraire series. it was as if the medium of my soul was beckoning me back through the way i'd fallen in love with it, 15 years ago: by reading. in december 2018, i was reading more and drawing less. in the span of january 2019, i've finished four or five books, and i've picked up my pen to draw maybe three times. in contrast, i've been writing almost every day.
the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
getyourwordsout spreadsheet; i've written for 22 out of the 25 days of january.
on one hand, i'm pained by how little i wrote last year. i've prided myself on my slow but steady productivity, and i know that a lot of the things i was struggling with (fandom fame being the main one) was in some ways further hurt by my lack of writing. but i got what (i think) i needed: a smaller audience, less expectations, and less obligations. and i learned to draw! i enjoy doodling more now, and i want to keep improving my drawing skills, even if it'll have to come second to my writing. i know other people manage to do both, but for me, writing and drawing act as the inverse of each other; and i now know that when one is out of reach, i can console myself with the other.
all in all, though, i've really missed writing. i published a fic yesterday, and the lack of expectations i had of myself made a usually good experience turn into a wonderful one; i had a few responses i was eagerly awaiting, from close friends, but other than that, i had no kudos goals to hit, no delusions of this being my big break. i honestly just want to share something i've enjoyed writing. it's been a long time since i felt like that, and i hope i can manage to keep the feeling going in 2019.
i first set out the goal of writing every day in 2017. 200 words a day, i told myself. that's an achievable goal. i had friends who wrote 750 words a day (https://750words.com/), 1000 words a day, but i knew that would take me 1+ hour of solid work a day to achieve, and i simply didn't have that energy. in january 2017, i had just been diagnosed with depression a few months before, and i was trying to accommodate my restrictions for the first time in recallable memory. 200 words, on the other hand - i could write 200 words on the bus, on my phone, in class. 200 words was achievable.
and for a long time, it was! i tracked my daily word count in a spreadsheet that looked like this:
in september, i stopped tracking it; note the last edited. i was writing less and less, and i had taken commissions that i wasn't enjoying writing. i still published three pieces, one in september (5k, anew, anew, anew), one in october, (2k, la petite mort), and one in november (2k, in dependence), but the first was a commission, the second was smut for an ex, and the third was a vent piece. my mental health hit a low point that winter, and i spent most of my limited creative energy drawing vent art. i went through two sketchbooks in a very short period of time.
in 2018, i started again. that spreadsheet looks like this.
"Last edit was on January 6, 2018."
i quickly figured out 2018 wasn't going to be a writing year. i was still drawing, and i preferred the freedom of drawing without expectation; my writing had gotten so tangled-up in my 2017 experiment of taking money for my writing, my fading fandom fame, and i had no inspiration and i was second-guessing everything i wrote, everything i published. no one expected me to be good at drawing, including myself, and i could see myself progressing in a way i never could with writing. drawing was fun, even though i felt unable to share my art, and even though i still caught myself comparing my work to more experienced artists.
something else miraculous happened in 2018: i started reading again. not consistently, but i was reading. before this, i hadn't finished a book in years, and i read only sporadically, but in 2018, i read guards! guards!, a long way to a small lonely planet, the entire temeraire series. it was as if the medium of my soul was beckoning me back through the way i'd fallen in love with it, 15 years ago: by reading. in december 2018, i was reading more and drawing less. in the span of january 2019, i've finished four or five books, and i've picked up my pen to draw maybe three times. in contrast, i've been writing almost every day.
the
getyourwordsout spreadsheet; i've written for 22 out of the 25 days of january.on one hand, i'm pained by how little i wrote last year. i've prided myself on my slow but steady productivity, and i know that a lot of the things i was struggling with (fandom fame being the main one) was in some ways further hurt by my lack of writing. but i got what (i think) i needed: a smaller audience, less expectations, and less obligations. and i learned to draw! i enjoy doodling more now, and i want to keep improving my drawing skills, even if it'll have to come second to my writing. i know other people manage to do both, but for me, writing and drawing act as the inverse of each other; and i now know that when one is out of reach, i can console myself with the other.
all in all, though, i've really missed writing. i published a fic yesterday, and the lack of expectations i had of myself made a usually good experience turn into a wonderful one; i had a few responses i was eagerly awaiting, from close friends, but other than that, i had no kudos goals to hit, no delusions of this being my big break. i honestly just want to share something i've enjoyed writing. it's been a long time since i felt like that, and i hope i can manage to keep the feeling going in 2019.
