The year is half-over. It is 10:40 PM on June 30. I'm fighting against the clock.
Every month since last September, I've posted an essay to liquidbrain.net. Now, my streak is in doubt.
This blog has lost steam. I'm a journalist (in training) now; every word I write here is a word I could have written for work. We'll see how I manage the transition; it's been rough so far.
Yet whether I'm prolific here, and whether anyone reads this, I want to keep a promise to myself that I never made.
I want to keep writing this blog.
I've been reflecting recently on whether I enjoy writing. I think I do, but only in those final moments before the deadline, where all I can focus is on the page. Before I start, I'm a wreck of constipated expectation.
The only way I write is by forcing myself to take out a notebook. I dread that moment; I hate the first few hours; and then ... it's okay.
Every first sentence I make is a promise to myself.
It's 11:00 PM now. I have to go.