This world. This place. This life.

When do you give up?

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I’ve blogged long enough, and consistently enough, that it’s becoming a practice. Like any practice, it teaches me about myself.

Recently, the lesson has been about giving up. Quitting. Being defeated by self-doubt.

I’ve noticed that when I write a blog post there’s always a distinct moment when I want to click “move to trash,” or at least “save draft,” and walk away.

It happens two-thirds of the way through the post. Suddenly I’m sure that I cannot possibly find words for the thoughts in my mind. My ideas feel twisted, convoluted––or worse, trite, unnecessary, clichéd. Demons gather round, each chanting its favorite poison in my direction.

But––and here’s the new thing––I’ve learned to take a moment, look them in the eye, and keep writing.

It’s remarkably liberating.

I’ve discovered that what feels like two-thirds done is often much farther along the path. If I press on, setting aside the critics, the route to the end is shorter and more straightforward than I had imagined.

And so here it is.

The end.


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