In February I decided to challenge myself to blog every weekday in March.
No excuses. I had to post every weekday.
I did this to get myself unstuck and over my fear of blogging. Today I’ve accomplished my goal!
The first week was torture. I second guessed myself at every turn. Hated my editorial calendar. Wanted to quit.
But I didn’t quit. Here are a few reasons why:
1> I found accountability partners.
I announced my goal to two people who would help keep me accountable, my husband, Jamie and my good friend, Jenn Morgan. We didn’t have any formal agreement for them to check up on me. But I did not want to come back to them today and say that I hadn’t finished my goal. I did not want to let them, or myself, down.
2> I gave blogging “important” status.
I started treating my blogging project with the same emphasis and attention that I give to my client work. My client work gets done. Period. No excuses. On time. I gave blogging equal weight in my list of priorities. At the end of February, I blocked out time on my schedule everyday for writing blog posts.
3> I made it fun.
I spent time crafting posts, selecting fonts, editing photos, thinking up funny titles. All the stuff that I like to do. I made it a creative endeavor instead of a chore to check off.
4> I made an editorial calendar.
I like to write whatever is on my mind each day. But on those days when the muse doesn’t show up, the editorial calendar was key to getting something posted.
5> I gave myself permission to be a writer.
I started to accept how much I love to write and to embrace that part of me. Writing this month gave me the push I needed to sign up for a writing conference.
Here’s a roundup of my posts for March. I hope you find something here to inspire you to think about design and writing as a tool to tell your business’s story
March Blog Post Roundup
Talking About Design
- Why I Love What I Do
- What Can a Graphic Designer Do for your Business
- Confidence and Your Website
- Do online businesses need a logo?
- Does Your Website Header Need a Facelift?
- Design Jargon Translated – Color
- Design Jargon Translated – Vectors
I Love Fonts And So Can You
- 4 Flowy, Flirty, Feminine & Free Fonts
- Good Fonts Gone Bad
- The Skinny on Thin Fonts
- Fun and Sensible Fonts
- We’re Here for the Party Fonts
Look Ma, I’m a Writer
Taking Care of Business
Life in Photos
Life in Words
Thanks for reading!
I’ve been sitting around waiting for a blog post fairy to shine her light down on me and give me a bunch of freaking awesome posts.
October, November, December, January and February went by and she didn’t come. She saw my lack of effort and responded accordingly.
I don’t know how it works for you, but my fairy demands ACTION. She wants to know that I want something bad enough to try to get it on my own, without her help.
Even if I really suck. Even if I’m not perfect.
In the end it was fear that motivated me.
I was afraid that if I kept waiting for the world’s best blog post to magically appear, that I’d never write anything. That my blog would stay silent.
So, I challenged myself to write 23 blog posts in March (this is #12) and I shared my goal with someone who knows a lot about pushing others to reach their goals, my friend Jenn Morgan.
On March 1st, Jenn checked in with me.
“I have a few good starts,” I said. “If I can just get out of my way enough to do it.”
That’s exactly what all the good blog fairies are hoping for. They want us to get out of our own way and do the things we really want to do.
Then they can throw in the magic when we aren’t even looking.
All around me people are packed into pews and standing along at the back wall of the church. The ushers bring white folding chairs and set them up in the aisles. Sniffles, tight hugs, laughter and smiles mix together as the minister describes my great aunt Martha. I can feel my mom sitting beside me holding herself still and silent like only she can do. Zen in the middle of chaos.
I can’t look at my mom because I know I will see white tissues wadded up in her hand, red puffy eyes, tears and sadness. I can’t bear to see my mother cry. So I sit still, facing forward, watching photos of Aunt Martha’s life slide by on the projector screen. I see: Martha grinning in front of a tractor, Martha and her daughter Jane holding fishing trophies and Martha kissing Johnny, her husband. Then there it is, the picture I’ve been looking for, a teenaged Martha lined up with her sisters: Bonnie, Betty, Irene, Robbie, Bessie, Ruby and Marie. My Grandma Marie.
Suddenly I’m not at my great aunt’s funeral. I’m not in a church in Arkansas. I’m at Grandma Marie’s house standing in the kitchen watching her mix flour, pat it flat and cut out biscuits. I’m listening to her sing The Old Rugged Cross. I’m sitting next to her on the couch watching The Carol Burnett Show and running my hands along her arm to feel the softness of her skin.
Aunt Martha was the best kind of person. She loved everyone, made everyone feel special and the fullness of the church is a testament to her power. She was a dynamic combination of grit, grins and generosity. The same type of person her sister Marie, my grandmother, was. The type of person I’d like to be someday.
This type of person, the minister says, has the most bejeweled mansion in heaven. A diamond covered mansion sitting on a street of gold. When he says this I can see the rows of mansions and Grandma Marie and Martha so clearly that I hold my breath. They are running toward each other, arms wide open, swathed in the light of diamonds. Two strong, independent women, who lived completely and unconditionally and after all these years have found their way back to each other. Their life forces reach out to me. I see the past, the present and the future. They grant me a glimpse of all I’ve lost so that I can remember who I am and who I want to be. They remind me to live and to breathe.
###I’m participating in #Reverb10 and posting my writing here because it just feels right. Today’s #Reverb10 prompt is: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail. (Author: Ali Edwards)