Resist the Little Voice

I know I promised you a post a while back.

My intention when soft-launching the website was to get to work, writing. Writing every day, churning out content and publishing a newsletter at least once a week.

I had decided that I wanted to be a writer, right? It was a simple matter of putting my butt in the chair every day and writing, right?

Instead, I spent weeks agonising about what I should write. I wrote a long list of ideas, and even started a few of them with gusto. Inevitably, I would get to a point of uncertainty and stop writing. This one was too long. That one, too complicated. And this one? Way too simple an idea. No one will want to read this trash.

The fear I thought I had overcome when launching my site was back in full force. The Little Voice in the back of my head kept telling me there was no point to this, why bother, no one would like what I have to say anyway... it kept forcing it's way to the front of my mind. If I couldn't even decide how to start, how will I ever maintain a weekly blog?

Building any habit takes time and patience, and a LOT of ignoring the Little Voice. Habit change is difficult enough when things are calm and we have the energy to push through to progress, and this year has been far from a calm year for me. It's been filled with highs and lows and very little time to sit and write.

I have lost three beloved dogs, moved house, began a new, high-demand career, started learning French (mon dieus!), enrolled in a Fit Vegan coaching programme and hiked through the Kruger National Park. I also travelled. A lot. I attended two weddings at the coast, visited New York, South Sudan, Zimbabwe, Uganda, Kenya and Ethiopia.

You could say it's been an intense year.

So, perhaps it was a little ambitious of me to decide to launch a blog this year. Perhaps I should have waited until things calmed down. Until I had more time and more energy to ignore the Little Voice and just get to writing.

This thinking is a trap, though. This is how life passes us by.

We wait for optimal conditions before we take action, ignoring the fact that those optimal conditions won't magically appear. I've been harping on about wanting to write for over a decade to my ever-patient wife. If the ideal conditions for writing haven't materialised in all that time, they won't. Every day I spend talking about writing is one less day I have for actually writing.

We act each day as though we will breathe precious air forever. We won't. One of these days I will draw my last breath. Maybe in seventy years, or maybe this afternoon. I cannot afford to wait until things calm down. Things won't calm down. I will never have more time. Something will come up. It always does. Life - and that pesky Little Voice - will distract me until the final moments unless I choose to focus on what really matters.

In this moment, what matters to me is writing these words. Plopping my butt in this uncomfortable chair, opening my laptop and click-clacking away at the keyboard. My words may not be perfect, but at least they are here, in your inbox.

Take that, Little Voice.

I will write to you more often, dear reader. Pinky promise.

Have a great week.

Ric.