Project 365
Where do I even start? I’m not one for resolutions. That’s not to say I haven’t made any ever, I just know myself. I do a crap job of ever sticking to, well…anything. I have garbage discipline, which is likely why I never established a fitness routine, why I eat whatever I want for the most part (for better or for worse), why I always say I’m going to take up yoga—which I actually enjoy—and then before I know it, it’s been hours of me in bed on my phone, yoga intentions well forgotten. #NotProud.
But anyway, this is not what this post is about really. Since I started Arlyn Says back in April, first as a newsletter, then later as this website in July, I’ve struggled a bit with what it is. Is it a design website? A lifestyle site? It’s kind of always been this limbo of interests of mine but there was always something in particular that I felt best about, and that’s when I just wrote. Essays, thoughts, feelings. You guys liked it, too.
Lately, I’ve felt a tug at my heart to just write, and I’ve pushed it away because I’m what I not-so-endearingly refer to as a “tortured writer.” Readers, I hate the process of writing. But I love the end result. The feeling of having written something you’re proud of, that other people can relate to, that can even impact someone else’s life, that’s my dopamine. Man does it feel good. It’s like exercise, I suppose. While you’re doing it, you think “I have to do this for the rest of my life?!?” but by the end of the workout, endorphins have tricked you into feeling good. That’s me, with writing.
I’ve been a writer, professionally, since I graduated college over a decade ago, and in my new role in marketing, I write far less than I used to. Maybe that’s what’s on the other end of the tugging rope, but the thing is that I don’t actually miss any part of what I used to write about. Design, beauty, food…eh, I’ll take it or leave it. Over my career, I’ve punched out more how-to articles then nail holes hiding behind a gallery wall (if you’ve ever put up a gallery wall, you’ll know it’s innumerable…whoops), but the times that I’ve gotten to write an essay or even a feature story is where the real magic happens for me.
There was a time, when I was about 15 or so, that I decided on a whim—as nearly all my decisions go—that I was going to write a YA novel. I’d write a few pages every night, come to school with the print outs, and force my friends to read it. Eventually, they started asking me for more pages…they were into it, curious what was going to happen next, and I was elated. I think I got about 70ish pages in when I decided to give up. Why did I give up?!?
On the sofa the other day, I turned to Charles and said “I want to write again. How do I start?” and he said, so obviously: “Uh, on your blog?” I don’t know why mentally, I didn’t connect the two. I HAVE A BLOG. I can write whatever I want. It doesn’t have to be a tip-based service article or a room reveal or a product recommendation every time. I can just write, and that’s what I’m committed to doing. For years, I’ve had an internal monologue leading up to the new year that said “you should journal every day”…and the calendar would flip over to a new set of 12 months and no journaling would happen. Again, terrible discipline here.
There is zero, goose egg, zippo intention of coming up with a plan or an editorial calendar or any kind of prep. I’m going to open my laptop every morning and just write something. Maybe it’ll be a short story, painted from a memory of my own. Maybe it’ll be something helpful I want to share. Piece of fiction? Sure, why not? I’ll still aim to produce some things I think some of you came here for originally. If I redo a room in my home, don’t worry, I’ll write about that. Should I find an awesome recipe, I’ll share it. Nothing has changed there, but I’m saying this for accountability. I vow to write something—anything—every.single.bloody.day. I know many days, I’m REALLY not going to want to do it. I might not know what to say. Thinking about doing this tomorrow already exhausts me, but also kind of excites me? Exhaustive excitement…exciting exhaustion. I don’t think either is a thing really, but it’s how I feel regardless. I want to be able to look back on December 31, 2021 and say to myself wow, you actually did it. I’m so proud of me. Being proud of yourself is a big deal.
Will you come along with me? As I learn about myself, my interests, my memories, my thoughts on life through my keyboard, a flashing cursor as my canvas (or is it the paintbrush?). It won’t be perfect, there will be typos, some thoughts might not be very cohesive, but it’ll be me as a human splitting myself open for the internet, for you. Thank you for caring about me, dear friends and strangers. It means the world to me. Let’s see where we all are 365 days from now.
See you tomorrow…and the next day, and the next day and 361 other days after.