I was sending off a quick email a few weeks ago when a sudden thought popped into my head - you know, just about the worst thing you can do for a blog is to set a schedule. So I typed that in, and off it went. At some moment in that weird limbo between hitting SEND and seeing the confirmation, I realized something - wait, I set a schedule in my most recent post. And it wasn't just that February newsletter, either, which fell afoul of my unprompted burst of insight - using a post to set a schedule has been a persistent bad habit over the years.
So I guess it leads to an obvious question - if I know that this is a problem, then what was the point of doing it again? I think the subtle thing about a project like TOA, or maybe even life itself, is that there is always some idea governing the entire process, a golden rule of sorts, and that such a principle might take a long time before becoming obvious to anyone, especially the creator. I think it's perfectly natural to start something for no particular reason, then to continue along in the flow of its own momentum without ever considering the governing principle. For me, I started TOA in 2016 for one or two small reasons, then continued along for the next few years due mostly to various circumstances that prevented me from such a reflective exercise. The turbulence over the past few months forced me at first to slow down, then pause, which proved to be the moment I needed to consider what truly oversaw the TOA process.
There might be a later occasion to list out all the candidates, but for today we'll just look at the number one possibility. In my mind, the unofficial rule of TOA is that each post should have a point, and I think in most cases this point should be succinct enough to print on a fortune cookie. The point today, obviously, is to share not just that each post has a point, but more so that it should. So what was the point of the February newsletter? I think it's simple, but it probably wasn't evident at the time, so here it is on its own line:
You do things for which you have the time.
It's an easy idea, in fact it's so easy that at this point I fear the (trueon)average reader may offer a token eyeroll before going to do something more productive, like lying facedown on the floor. But I think there is some hidden depth to the point. What I am considering is how we need time to live the way we want to live, and we have two choices for acquiring this time - we can either proactively make time, or we can passively wait for time. Which is the better way? The latter approach, where we sit around hoping for a fortuitous shift in our various orbits of commitments and obligations, at least has the benefit of requiring less work - we just live life, and take it as it comes. There is a satisfaction in the efficiency of the method, and also a self-reinforcing inevitability where you explain the things you don't do by pointing to everything you are doing - I could do so much more, if only I had more time!
But shouldn't we know better by now? If something is always being saved for the 25th hour, then isn't it obvious that we should check our math? I think the process of putting some ideas for a schedule down on paper is a good starting point - for me, it's the equivalent of saying that there is a certain way I want to live, and in the writing context I am falling short. It's the first step to making time. When I sit down and think about how I'd like to incorporate writing into my life, I see myself working on it for a few hours a week. Right now "working on writing" means TOA, so despite my suggestion that the worst thing to do on a blog is to set a schedule, it might still be worth doing if it's the best way to make time, since making time is the best way for having time, which is the only way to live the life you want to live.
