One year ago today, I made my first blog post. It was a pretty big step. I’d deliberated over setting up a blog for more than 10 years, mostly because I thought that I wanted to write blog software. I wanted to do everything myself, and I wanted to do it the hard way. There’s a lesson to be learned in that, I think.
So as I sit in my hot garage, procrastinating over my epic fantasy, let’s take a moment to look at the journey so far.
A year ago today, I set myself the lofty goal of writing a little bit every day. I fell a bit short on that goal, but I did keep writing. I kept to a schedule for most of a year, going out at least once every week to a Starbucks.
I attended conventions, taking notes and posting them to my blog, so that all of my viewers could learn what I have learned.
I installed some plug-ins so that I could keep track of how many people came to read my words. To all three or four of you, you have my heartfelt thanks for showing up.
I rose and I fell. I was diligent, and I was slothful. I procrastinated, and I pushed myself. The year was definitely full of ups and downs.
There were two challenges that I rose up and faced valiantly. In October, I succeeded in 31 blog posts in 31 days. That led into November, where I managed to get 50,000 words completed late in the evening of the last day. My first successful NaNoWriMo.
I tried a self-imposed challenge in March, which fell flat. I attended writer’s groups, where I was both wonderful and terrible.
Fiction was created in good ways. Drama was generated in bad ways.
This post is mostly written in generalities, for various reasons. In less general terms, what do I have to show for this last year of writing?
I finished the first draft of an Urban Fantasy novel. In terms of writing, this is my biggest accomplishment. A long time ago, I’d written a novel, but it was before I knew how hard it could be. It was before I’d developed a good sense of taste, and while I was still young enough to know everything. It was before I’d created a demonic, mean-spirited inner editor. Somehow, in the month of November, I managed to get over myself enough to sit down, shut up, and write. And it was glorious.
I’ve grown as a writer. I can see many of the mistakes I was making a year ago, and I know how to correct most of them.
I haven’t given up. There have been times where I’ve considered it. It would be easier to just work during the day, play games at night, and accept my life as it is. I have a good, comfortable life. There’s nothing wrong with it. I just know that if I stopped writing, I wouldn’t be happy.
My journey as a writer over the last year has been pretty good. Let’s make this next year even better.