I feel a little off today if I’m being honest. I want to write, but I don’t know if I have it in me to continue at this pace, this unrelenting pace. 1000 words a day is a lot of writing. It never lets up if you keep at it, and I want to keep at it. I must keep at it.
Writing, for me, is the thing that helps make sense of the world. The world, like those thousand words I’m trying to hit, is unrelenting. It never lets up with its rhythm or requirements, its expectations, its temptations, the need to be heard and seen and felt. The world wants to take. Writing wants to give.
It’s like that with technology, too. The pace. Everything is about pace in tech. They like the word productivity, but don’t be fooled, it’s unrelenting pace that they care about. Do more. Make more. Go faster. Win, before we lose, or run out of time, or die. Writing is how we really survive.
It’s counterintuitive, the way writing resists. Here I was just three paragraphs ago feeling the same pressure to perform, to deliver. But I sat down. I got still. I let the words appear, one after the other. A new rhythm develops, a softer more reflective one. It explains. It defines. It survives. I feel a little better now.