So I had a great plan. So great was this plan, that I scribbled it down on a piece of paper in a work notebook as I was coming out of a meeting, turned the page over to start a new task, and promptly forgot about it.
The plan was to post something – anything – here, once a week. Well, it’s been 10 days, so while technically yes this is still within the ‘once a week’ remit, it’s not exactly what I was aiming for. So on the one hand, I’m a bit pissed with myself for falling at the first hurdle.
On the other, less dominant hand, I was away for a few nights, and then I got ill. Hell I’m still ill. And I didn’t really make a plan about what I was going to post – the plan was to post something – anything, once a week. And this is a something. So in that sense, I’m not an absolute failure.
It’s a big thing though, that fear of failure, no? Like when you get a new notebook. I am forever being bought notebooks, because I write, you see, so I have boxfuls upon boxfuls of beautiful notebooks, with pristine pages, full of empty space; because what if I write something and have to cross it out?! The aesthetic sacrifice! The squandered lines! No, I could never. Not even to improve my craft, or get any use out of them. No, beautiful things must never be used, only looked at. Not just written in for anything, but used for something.
A bad first draft is infinitely better than a non-existent one. I know this. It’s advice I give out all the time. But I find that looking at my own, awful first drafts, to be incredibly discouraging. And there’s the rub, I haven’t quite figured out that bit yet.
So my plan was to write something once a week. And this really is a bad first draft, of what could eventually be quite an engaging and relatable think piece about fear of failure, and how tying is the first step to succeeding, but for now I’m going to leave it at this and go back to watching old Drag Race.