#365 of 365
Today marks the end of my 365-day blogging experiment.
This time last year, I would have placed the odds of success at two percent. Five, max. But I underestimated my stubborn streak. As I completed one day and then the next, I became more and more determined to keep writing.
Did it suck? Sometimes. Did I write great literature? Far from it. But I showed up here, each and every day, and I learned a lot along the way.
"I'm thankful that I made this silly commitment to blog every day in 2017," I wrote on day 118, because some days it's the only thing keeping me from feeling like I've completely given up on my dream."
And on day 198: "I'm not doing this for attention, nor praise, not to build my platform or get likes. I'm staking a claim. I am taking up space. I am embracing all my imperfections and limitations and one-sentence days without apology. And I am doing it all for me. To prove to myself that I can, and that it's worth it, and that my kids won't starve and the world won't explode and I won't be evicted from the internet by trolls.
"I refuse to be precious about practice. I refuse to staunch my forward process with demands of the ego. I will learn, and I will learn, and I will learn, and I will learn. And if I learn my way to the literary canon then so be it. And if I don't, it will still be worth it. Because it's the only way to live."
Tonight I say goodbye to daily blogging, so I can turn my attention toward less public forms of learning. You'll still see me here frequently. I've become less precious about my writing this year. I'm less of a perfectionist and more eager to share.
Just not every day.