I didn't set myself hard goals. In fact, I made a point of choosing what seemed to be easy things. 250 words a day. That's what? Two paragraphs? 10 minutes of reading a night? When I used to devour books by the handfuls? Journaling 4 nights out of every 7? And no length requirement?
I didn't want to set myself up for failure. I didn't want to be that person, the one who fails three days in, undone by the seeming impossibility of the task at hand.
And yet I am. Even as modest as my goals were...I failed them.
I missed 2 days of writing entirely. 2 days of Reading. 2 Days of Journals. The only goal I achieved was to spend 3 of my writing days on my stalled novel.
Odd that. Amidst the failure, I worked on my novel, the novel, the one that's sort of nested itself in my heart and which - despite every roadblock and every misstep along the way - I cannot give up on.
And I feel sorta good about this week. Yeah, I missed two days. But of the 5 days between the start of this thing (Tuesday) and now (Sunday), I met the challenge on 3 of those days. And, with today, I plan to make that 4.
Next week will be better. Next week, I'm gonna hit every goal and not just one.
Of note, it's surprising how much reading one can accomplish in ten minutes. If nothing else, I've learned how much time I've been wasting and how foolish I've been to say that I haven't enough.
Ten minutes. Even I can do ten minutes. I plan to catch up on a long overdue reading list this year.