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The finish line

I made it. This is my 30th consecutive post in as many days.

Back in 1999, a colleague of mine, Paul Festa, set out to do something I considered simultaneously admirable and foolhardy: He created (the now defunct), a project wherein he would write and post one thing a day, every day, for an entire year. I was amazed by his determination.

When I was just coming into my own as a writer, just trying that name on for size to see how it fit, I was stingy with my words. I was afraid that if I spent my good words too freely I would use them all up, that my bank account of good words and turns of phrase would be exhausted, and I’d be left with nothing but monosyllabic grunts.

Many years later, I’ve come to realize quite the opposite. Creativity is not a pantry, it’s a garden. Using it is not using it up. The words you write today will add a nourish the soil for the words you will write tomorrow, and the rest of your life.

Twenty-nine days ago I promised incoherence, rhapsody and inanity, and I may have delivered on all that. The one thing I did not deliver on is failure to execute, and I am proud of that. I have often said I am only truly happy in life when I am actively writing, and so this has been a gratifying exercise.

All that said, this has been fun and all, but I’m looking forward to at least one day without a crushing deadline.

This Post Has 5 Comments
  1. Dang, baby! I was sure technology or utter exhaustion would cost you at least one day, but no. You have proved your super studliness in the writing arena, my friend. That is some serious stamina.
    I, too, stand in awe of you. Rock on witch yo bad self!
    Oh, and… drinks are on me next time I see you. Cheers to you!

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