When I started The Prescription, my goal was to write every day for one year.
Hell, I didn’t even know if that was possible. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to get into the blog game, it’s that I wanted to get my writing chops back. Sure, a well placed snarky email on a mailing list might give a moment’s satisfaction, but those are wisps of thought quickly gone and leaving no footprint. So I gave myself a challenge, and like most challenges, it is a lot different from the way you initially envision it.
But I made it. So I figured what the hell…how about another year?
The truth was that the release was gratifying, as was the steadily growing stream of emails and comments (written and in person) from those who enjoyed a piece or disagreed with a take or were inspired to write something of their own (my favorite reaction, bar none). Some days it was a little more difficult to carve out the time, but I pounded away and was proud of the fact that I was churning out some decent copy day after day. People got confused by the sidebar calendar – aren’t some of the dates supposed to look different from the others?
So after two years were in the books and I saw the number of posts climbing, I set my sights on one thousand consecutive posts. I didn’t even calculate what date that would be, but I figured a lottery ticket purchase – maybe even a palm reading – wouldn’t be a bad way to tempt fate on that celebratory day.
But sometimes life bites you in the ass.
Now before I seem like an alarmist, let me tell you that I’m a blessed man. I have a wonderful family, great friends, good health and have never wondered where my next meal was going to come from. There have been tough times, sure, and there were periods of my life when I was flat broke or worse, but I have never been hopeless. And yeah, I’ve had dark days; anyone who hasn’t just isn’t paying attention. So when things happen – and they always have – I’m pretty good at juggling them and getting on with the daily grind, including pounding out an essay on this or that in this very space.
What started three weeks ago as a sudden and involved work committment morphed into an insane number of working hours that found me working from early morning until damned near the next morning, bleeding into the weekends and snaring my thoughts if and when I slept. Add in family issues and other obligations and suddenly I was not only juggling the balls, but spinning the plates, tap dancing and probably throwing in jazz hands just to keep the attention of the hard-to-please. Lack of sleep became fever dreams. Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be my family or my obligations.
At first I hoped it might be a day or two, but days turned into a week and then another. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am on email several times a day and have replied at all hours of the night, but recently days have passed between log ins. Haven’t seen a TV show during prime time; hard to do when you are still in the office at midnight. I had jotted thoughts on this book and that album and these comics but was stretched so thin that I would often fall asleep in the chair with a pencil in my hand, too tired to even make it to the keyboard.
Sure, I could have probably tossed up a couple of quick thoughts, but that’s not my style. I want to shoot for one hundred percent. Ninety-nine and a half just won’t do. So the streak stopped at 934 posts, not 1000.
And today, another begins.
Thanks to all of those who shot a note over asking about me; I’m slowly working my way through a mountain of emails so don’t take my lack of response as anything other than what it is. Looks like things have settled down (from insane to very busy), but my mind is clear (some say blank) and it looks like my schedule will once again permit breathing room for this labor of love. Have a lot to write about, a lot to listen to, a lot to enjoy. Life is good. Thanks, as always, for stopping by.
See you tomorrow, and hopefully every day after that.