After a month, my writing routine has not been quite established. I skipped for about a week, especially in the past week. To excuse myself, I can certainly clinch to the same, old BS: I was too busy, there are other more urgent issues, etc.
But the harsh reality is, things that can be delayed will always be delayed. If you can put it off today, why not tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow? Before long you find yourself abandoning it altogether. When that happens, they cease to be your passions.
Sounds too familiar? That is the recipe for my past failures. I suspect it is also the culprit for much of the aborted new year resolutions.
I hate to repeat the same mistake again and again. That insults my intelligence. So why cannot I keep up writing? Some thoughts are in place.
First, fix your attitude. If writing is what you want to improve, then you must do what it takes, i.e., discipline yourself to sit down and type, especially when you don’t feel like to. Only by so doing will you build the necessary momentum and ingrain it as a habit.
Second, set the realistic expectation. I like radical revolution, but I am less sure I can summon my willpower every day for that. And it need not to be so. I have never aspired to be a writer. To me, writing is a hobby, for reflecting on my life and living more consciously. So I write for myself, not others. I must also accept that, when time is scarce, many of my scribbles will be ugly. But even that is still better than no writing at all.
Third, set a fixed writing time and defend it as a ritual. At this stage, I have other pressing issues, so I cannot devote hours into writing. But, instead of watching TV and casual reading, I can certainly squeeze half hour after the dinner, for my writing ritual.
So here is my writing plan for February: write three paragraphs every day, no matter how ugly they are. Just do it.