I’ve never had a new years resolution. I’ve told myself to do this, to do that, to read this, to be that. But I’ve never set myself a real goal or a measurable target. I asked myself why, and came to the realisation that I don’t trust myself enough. I don’t trust myself to finish what I start.
I have neglected my online writing in the past few years, and this blog in particular, the one I pay to upkeep, has stagnated. I’ve never known what it should be about. I don’t like indulging in personal essays, like this. Too often I lack a subject, and more importantly, a question. And I like to see the end.
It’s not that I don’t write often. Spread across my hard drives, in cloud drives and in notebooks, I have words unpublished. Some are fiction. There’s one messy screenplay and about ten beginnings to more. If I look hard enough, I’ll dig up some chapters to a novel or two. These are things I haven’t seen endings for. They are fleeting ideas that seem great in the first few pages and then whittle away to a ‘learning experience’. That makes me feel uncomfortable.
I want to publish more. As a start I’ll be transferring my small Medium portfolio here. I have a habit tracker app with a task to publish here once a week. That’s something else with no end.
I’ll have finished my degree in six months. It’ll be the first time I’ve finished something in years. Maybe then, when my adult life is more free and fully in swing, I’ll stop worrying about all the unfinished projects, the neglected ramblings, websites and hobbies.
I couldn’t decide whether to title this post ‘beginnings’ or ‘endings’. I figured I shouldn’t start a new year with a post about what I fear.