The discomfort of one day at a time

I just spent a rainy afternoon in a Starbucks, writing my novel.

I wrote, despite wanting to physically shake a young man talking too loud to my right.

And I wrote, despite that creeping feeling.

The feeling that comes when I look at how many chapters I have yet to write.

This is the first novel I've written, and it is daunting.

I like to make my sentences great, so every line takes focus. And time.

But I look back over the other books I've written, and I can see it's possible.

I remember all those other times I felt that creeping panic.

That this was stupid. All this time spent on something with absolutely no guarantee that anyone will read it. Hundreds of hours put into something uncertain.

And it's in moments like these that I feel a sense of connection too.

Connection with all the thousands of writers and creatives who've come before, who also felt like throwing it in.

And these people all shared something. They all found some strength in the power of compounding.

Five minutes here.

Forty minutes there.

It adds up.

And it will materialise. And it will be worth it in the end.

Just as long as you find that faith in the power of stringing hundreds of these moments together.

Each moment needn't be or feel spectacular.

It just needs doing.

Find that thing worth doing, and then find that one moment.

Finding the faith to keep going when every part of you wants to quit has a lot to do with respecting yourself enough to stay the course.

You have to believe you're the kind of person who finishes what they start.

I wrote The Art of Self-Respect for exactly this. In it I share the 25 habits that rebuild how you see yourself, so showing up stops feeling like a fight.

Grab the book bundle here.

Peace and Happy Easter,

Alex