I have been looking forward to this.
I nearly gave up at a dozen different points—most often, when I fell behind.
I'm shamed by how often I fell behind on posting.
But it was the leeway I granted myself, the only way I knew for sure that I could actually publish 365 blog posts in the course of a year.
Not every post was well-written. In fact, most posts were first drafts—slapdash things thrown together in a few spare minutes before bedtime.
Not every post was well-thought out, either. I started plenty of posts with a topic in mind only to find myself struggling. Did I actually think this? What about this other thought? Would I be contradicting myself to say this?
But—something is better than nothing.
I had to remind myself of that a lot. A few scribbled (typed on an iPhone) posts, some verging on thoughtless. Well, not thoughtless—just meandering.
Some good posts, too, I should mention. Nothing that I truly worked over—but some decent writing nevertheless.
Which leads to the big question: Did I get any better?
Yes and no.
Yes, in that the simple act of drafting something, even something vaguely shitty, is a good thing. I think I got a tiny bit closer to finding my voice, that sense of knowing how I—as opposed to anyone else—would say something.
But no, too—no in that I
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