Just Gonna Write

No Schedule. No Promises. No expectations.

Attempting to launch a newsletter and scrape up a readership of any kind often feels like screaming your lungs out into the depths of space. You give it your all, just hoping that some lone soul out there, somewhere in the dark vacuum of infinity, takes notice of what you have to say. You scream and scream and scream, and after a while, with sore vocal cords and the indifference of the universe in front of you, you decide it’s time to call it a day and move on.

And that’s how MidThoughts, this little off/on publication of mine, has felt over the past couple of years. I’ve launched, abandoned, and re-launched this thing so many damn times now that I’ve lost count. My repeat, reckless, baby-in-the-dumpster treatment of this newsletter likely alienated the handful of readers that I did have, and forced me to confront and reckon with my commitment to my craft (do you even have a craft if you’re not devoting time to it consistently?).

I look back on some past essays with a feeling of embarrassment. All of my lofty plans to make something substantial: a weekly column, dreams of a book, building a community of like-minded readers that would champion my writing and pay for my escape from the shackles of my dull and exhausting day job just fizzled away out of lack of energy, impetus, and ideas.

I gave up. I was tired, discouraged, and I gave up.

And listen. I’m not coming back, dumping these personal woes of mine out onto the internet all these months later for anybody’s sympathy. I’m not here whining into the clouds looking for hugs or a piece of candy to make the pain go away. Failing to deliver on a promise to yourself because of a lack of work and consistency is a pretty open and shut case. I’m not sitting here aghast, wondering why the publication never seemed to get off the ground. I look in the rearview, and the reasons are pretty clear.

I have a bad habit of forming these grand visions in my head, promising way too much to myself right out of the gate, and then quickly realizing that too much, too soon is a quick road to failure. Unsustainable commitments create fear. Fear creates avoidance. Repeated avoidance creates failure. It’s a pretty simple formula. Don’t need to dwell on it for too long.

I think my problem with MidThoughts, and the reason that I’ve been caught in this vicious circle for so long, is that I approached this project with a sense of urgency right out of the gate. I created MidThoughts in an attempt to build a brand and a name for myself quickly, convinced that I’d burst through the walls of Substack like some kind of literary Kool-Aid Man, and everyone would immediately take notice of this amazing and unique new talent. Within months I’d be quitting my day job, telling my boss to suck eggs, and making a living on my own terms.

It’s difficult for me to admit all of this because it seems like an extremely delusional thought for a grown-ass man in his mid forties who really should know better by now, to entertain. I forced myself onto a biweekly writing schedule, which I was able to maintain for almost a year. I even went out of my way to do all the stuff needed for success, like commenting on other essays and occasionally posting in notes, but in the end, I also had a very busy, very draining day job, and the demands of that beast eventually won over, and zapped my willpower. I relaunched several months later, in a cloud of sudden inspiration, promising even more to my handful of readers, knowing that it would be almost impossible to sustain. And that relaunch folded not too long after it began. It’s embarrassing. I go running most days of the week, and you’d think the lessons about endurance, pace, and energy conservation that come with those workouts would carry over into other areas of my life.

You’d think.

I’ve done a lot of work on myself this past year. I’ve been trying finally to find peace and acceptance with my anxiety, and all of these things that I have no control over. I’ve been practicing my philosophy and am trying to draw-out and connect with universal truth in its purest form. I’ve worked on killing my ego, knowing that as long as it exists, I’ll never get to live with both feet firmly planted in reality. As I get older, destroying the ego seems more possible and within reach. It’s become much easier to pick up on all of its devious little tricks and schemes. As I trod closer to advanced age I’m eradicating any kind of attachment to unimportant and unsubstantial things like status or wealth. I want to die as close as I can to the truth, stripped away of all of the bullshit pageantry and useless ornamentation that we as humans attempt to drape all over it.

Heavy thinking, perhaps. The sense of urgency only grows with age and I have little time for the other kind these days.

I suppose all this brings me to the main point I’m trying to make here: I just want to strip away all the nonsense and write. It feeds my soul and allows me to digest this often perplexing world. Writing has always been a way for me to seek answers, reflect on my journey, and chart my path forward. Writing for any other reason would be dishonest to myself. So, I’m not here to make any more grand announcements for this publication that I can’t promise to fulfill. I’m no longer writing to build an audience, quit my job, or earn income. Instead, I’m giving myself permission to start fresh, to put on the old raggedy sweatpants, and just write. Square one. No schedule, no promises, and no expectations.