Yesterday, I went rogue and forgot to post. Mea culpa to the one person who reads my blog.

Gretchen Rubin again posed a question that riled up my senses: Are you a tortoise or a hare at work?

I’m a mix of both. I can be a go-getter, yet I can take my time to do a project.

That’s at work.

In my personal life, I’m more of a procrastinator. Neither tortoise or hare, I’m more like the sloth, and that has to change.

One way this is changing is by giving myself a schedule to write, to play, and to do.

I have come to realize that forcing myself to write and post each day is a good thing. I like putting words down on the page and seeing the cogent result of my activity as soon as I press publish (unlike academic publishing, where your article can languish in the bowels of a reviewer’s laptop or to-be-read pile).

However, with those great feelings, come the creeping feelings and doubts. I have nothing to say. I have no one who is reading. I can’t do this. It’s all bunk, but those doubts bubble to the surface. And I avoid the doubts by not writing, not doing, not blogging, not thinking. I procrastinate until I feel the urge, until I am inspired.

Which are all bullshit ways for a writer to live and to create.

So, I am in a place where I am getting unstuck. I am coming out of my sprinter phase to becoming a marathoner. I am a not a tortoise or a hare; I’m just Intelligentsia Brown, trying to create at my own pace and on my own terms, one day at a time.

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