Dear Readers,
It dawned on me last week that I’ve been writing “Because We Can” (this newsletter) for just over a year now. That’s a milestone, and I can honestly say that the past year zipped by.
That’s one year of telling you about my creative journey. That’s one year of inspiring you and myself to just get out there and create. That’s one year of monthly reminders that it’s the voyage, not the destination, and that by creating art, we’re contributing something positive to the world.
I originally intended this issue to focus on the happenings on Twitter right now. I wanted to talk about the folly of Elon Musk and give my two cents on how the Lit community on Twitter will have to evolve and grow beyond the bird app.
But you don’t need yet another newsletter echoing the same sentiment you’ve probably seen elsewhere by now. You don’t need another voice mimicking that age-old reminder that nothing is permanent and that life is a constant state of change. We have self-help gurus for that kind of thing.
Instead, I thought about the last year of writing this newsletter. I thought about all of the publishing victories I had (newsflash: it was only one victory but many losses). I thought about the strange evolution into podcasting that happened about 6 or 7 months ago. Most of all, I thought about how much I actually wrote when it came to the second novel in my scifi series.
The answer is… not as much as I would have liked.
I’m sure every creator feels that way though.
And then I thought, “Well, if I feel that way, I suppose I should do something about it.”
That’s how we grow, right? That’s how we change and improve and march our way through the muck and toward our dreams, right?
One of the writers I follow on Twitter has been providing an answer to this conundrum for months, and it was only within the last week that I took notice. Everyday, she updates her writing progress with a simple mathematical formula.
Words written - words edited out = total words in her current draft
Seems simple, right? The real trick is, this writer has done this consistently for, as far as I can tell, Every. Single. Day.
Not being one to turn down a good idea, I realized that maybe this is something that I’ve been missing. Thus, on the first day of NaNoWriMo, I made a change. I started a writing log on a simple Google spreadsheet. Everyday that I write, I log the date in Column A.
In Column B, I list the amount of words written for that day. Note: I don’t include any words written for my day job (that would insanely inflate my rate and also that’s cheating). No, Column B only includes words written for after-hours comic book reviews, comic scripts, short stories, or progress on my second scifi book. It’s for extracurricular words only.
In Column C, I have a running total that I plan to halt on December 31st and start over again in a new tab on January 1, 2023.
I don’t plan to subtract any words from my grand total for any editing I do. I don’t need that negativity in my life.
I’m just counting the cumulative total of words added right before I shut down for the evening. That’s it. It’s simple, easy, and the formula in Column C does the math for me.
It’s my way of holding myself accountable. It’s my way of having a log handy, so when that despair hits, when that wave of imposter syndrome washes over me, I can open my writing log and see how much I’ve written this year.
Here’s to hoping it inspires you. Here’s to hoping that when you feel the shadow of imposter syndrome festering in your soul, you A.) know that the creative community feels that same doubt and supports you, and B.) can empower yourself to grow, change, and better combat the doubt that threatens to underwhelm everyone who creates.
Because you’re doing something admirable. And I want you to know that I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
Scott, this is a wonderful and introspective read, and it applies so well to work in other fields as well, i.e., grad school.
I hope you're doing well!
Brittany