Welcome to my newest project! I say that both to you, the reader (who I very much hope exists), and to myself. I’m not sure either of us knows what we’re in for.
Once the Coronavirus hit and I was banished to my home with more free time than I’ve ever had in my life, I decided it was time to start working on this project– so I did… in stages. First, I made myself a logo. Then I created this website, acquired my domain, and set up all of my social media accounts. I spent days trying to perfect the design and layout of the site, as well as whether I should include a photo and which one. My “About Me” page took me a few days to get up the nerve to start writing, and another day to actually write (I have a problem with perfectionism, but I’m working on that too).
I have now completed my goal of creating a centralized location for my writing. Everything is all set up, and all I have to do is push my little writing sailboat off the land and into the questionable and terrifying public sea. No big deal.
Except it’s a HUGE deal because holy-crap-I-might-fail! I have spent such a long time thinking about writing, and writing for myself, and imagining writing something real and maybe even big for other people, that having my little sailboat sink would probably change something about my identity.
I feel like Ted Mosby when he’s trying to start his own architecture company in How I Met Your Mother. He spends a ton of time on all these tiny insignificant details (like finding the “official pen” of Mosbius Designs) because he is hardcore stalling actually DOING anything. He finally admits “the longer I put off starting my own firm, the longer it can remain a dream and not something I screwed up at. It’s like I’m giving up before I even started.”
Preach, Ted. That is precisely why I have sat on the couch multiple times over the last week trying to write this first post before inevitably hitting *Save Draft* and closing my laptop. Every day is a tug-of-war between starting and giving up to save myself from the possibility of falling short.
I have to take a chance now, or never get anywhere at all. I have no guarantees of quantity or quality (if I suck, so be it!), but I am here and I am going to try my dang best.