I’ve always known I’m supposed to write. For close to 50 years, I’ve chickened out. I’ve written tons of articles, hundreds of sermons, and thousands of blog posts, but never a book.
Last year I booked the top floor of my favorite coffee shop in Toronto. I scratched out ideas on post-it notes and made a mess all over the table. By the end of the day I had a fairly decent book proposal together, which was more progress than I’d ever made before. It was a start.
I didn’t do anything for months. Eventually, though, I took the next small step. I started writing 250 words a day, 6 days a week. That goal is so small that I couldn’t ever come up with an excuse for missing it. I’ve kept it up ever since except for holidays. I think I’ve only missed a few days.
Writing a book seemed impossible. Writing 250 words a day seemed like something almost anyone can do.
Years ago I remember reading this paragraph from Charles Swindoll:
Rather than focusing on the whole enchilada, take it in bite-size chunks. The whole of any objective can overwhelm even the most courageous. Writing a book? Do so one page at a time. Running a marathon? Those 26 plus miles are run one step at a time. Trying to master a new language? Try one word at a time. There are 365 days in the average year. Divide any project by 365 and none seem all that intimidating, do they? It will take daily discipline (a la Proverbs 19:27), not annual discipline. (The Quest for Character)
So much wisdom here. I wish I’d heeded it sooner.