Today I hit snooze five times after a terrible night's sleep. Work involved a series of headache-worthy meetings, in the sense of trying to figure out big picture strategy while facing current state problems. I sped through lunch, eating bites of leftover vegan enchilada, which sounds fancy but mostly means lots of beans and sweet potato when I really wanted a burger and fries away from my desk. My husband had plans, so I needed to be lead parent at home, and after the rush of daycare pick-up, I managed to make it to the yoga class available: power sculpt. Hard, hard, hard. I was over it in the first 15 minutes and left early, even though the teacher was great. I got home and saw the huge pile of dishes next to the sink, as a bored puppy jumped all over my legs. In the 30 seconds it took me to put a load of laundry in, my sweet son dropped shampoo and conditioner into the toilet.
And then I remembered that today is the start of the 100 Day Project, and I had planned to participate.
First reaction: fuck no.
Then, excuses: Not today. Today is too hard. I'm too tired. I still have emails to tackle! I have dishes to do! I haven't eaten dinner yet! I don't have anything to say! I don't have a project yet! Maybe I'll start tomorrow. Or next week. I can join in later and nobody will know the difference. Nobody cares, anyway. Like, nobody reads my writing in the first place. Okay, some people read it, but not that many. 100 days is a really long time. Ugh. I can't commit. I don't feel like starting today. I don't feel like being creative. I don't FEEL LIKE SHOWING UP OKAY UNIVERSE.
And then I remembered a post from the other day by Glennon Melton Doyle where she talked about the 98% of her career life that involves waking up early to write, doing the work over and over and over again and sitting on her laundry room floor atop a pile of her kid's dirty clothes.
Well, the reality is that much of a writing life involves the mundane showing up part. The boring put your butt in the chair and start typing, for God's sake moment. The hello, no one is going to come do this part for you element.
It is not fun. It is not fancy. It is leftover pasta in your pajamas at the kitchen table after the baby goes to bed. It is a blank screen and a cursor going blink, blink, blink. It is writing and editing and rewriting and throwing it all away and starting over. It is pointless, and some days, it is everything.
This 100 days, for me, is about writing 100 words daily even when I really don't feel like it. Because honestly, most days, I don't really feel like it. I don't feel like doing the work, but I sure do want the results of the work, which means I need to show up a little bit more in a way that's just for me.
So if you're like me, always waiting to start, always planning for the perfect day to make something out of nothing: know that you're not alone.