Issue #19: How I wrote 100 essays in 105 days
Committing to the practice + a template for your Substack writing
Well, hello! Looks like my summer sabbaticals are becoming a tradition. Last summer, I broke from the routines that structured my days to go all-in on new ventures, grieving, and healing.
This year, typical summery activities gave way to the all-consuming nesting and hibernating that comes with having a baby. This summer was like no other — a moment in time that will forever mark the transition from life before to life after.
But I wasn’t completely gone! Last I left you, I shared the start of a deeply personal project: Mom Brain — a journey of drafting 100 reflections in the 100 days leading up to my baby’s due date. While Mind Brew went dark for a bit there (sorry about that!) I committed to a practice that landed a total of 36,458 words in 105 days.1
That amount may mean nothing to other writers, but to me this volume and consistency represents a breakthrough in what I have been able to achieve for myself. I’ll write thousands of words a week for my clients, but to dedicate just a fraction of that intention towards my own personal project, something in which I took full ownership and immersed myself, was a first for me. And it was amazing.
MB’s spring book club pick, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work by Seth Godin, was chosen specifically to help spur this endeavor, and it did not disappoint. Here’s some behind-the-scenes of how Mom Brain came to be.
Reflections on the practice.
“We become creative when we ship the work.” — Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 12)
#1: Baking in batches.
Taking a page out of Jenny Blake’s Free Time, I found myself “baking in batches” — instead of concepting, writing, editing, and publishing each essay before moving to the next, I batched each stage of the process, which helped me shift this project forward while still honoring where I was energetically on any given day. Some days I devoted time to planning and brain-dumping ideas for essays that popped into my head. Other days I would dedicate to writing 3-5 essays at a time, and then the next days on editing and uploading to Substack.
#2: Finding excitement in the practice over the product.
I didn’t know how this writing project would turn out — if I could finish, what the content of these reflections would be, how I would feel about it all as I made my way through this 100-day countdown, and, transparently, if I would feel like any of final product was worthy of the effort. I imagine that’s how it is for many of our projects, right? No matter how specific the goal or intended outcome, the journey and ending is never fully predictable, and that’s the magic of this work. So, my mindset going in emphasized the practice over the product.
“For the work we’d like to do, the reward comes from the fact that there is no guarantee, that the path isn’t well lit, that we cannot possibly be sure it’s going to work. It’s about throwing, not catching. Starting, not finishing. Improving, not being perfect.” —Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 15)
#3: “Do then be.”
Godin flips the script on creative identity when he says, “We become what we do” (p. 19). We cannot wait around to ‘feel’ like a writer (or painter or potter, etc.), have the ‘right’ credentials, or be recognized by others with the creative titles we aspire to. Showing up and doing the work is the secret passageway to creative confidence and overcoming imposter syndrome. This practice bolstered my creative self-esteem in a way I never expected.
#4: Connecting with my why.
Outing myself now: My approach to the practice is not 100% aligned with what Godin masterfully puts forth. There was a nagging deficiency in what I was putting out: generosity.
“Generosity is the most direct way to find the practice. Generosity subverts resistance by focusing the work on someone else. … It activates a different part of our brain and gives us a more meaningful way forward. People don’t want to be selfish, and giving in to resistance when you’re doing generous work feels selfish.” —Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 64)
Mom Brain was/is a selfish endeavor. I didn’t write for anyone but myself, and I don’t expect any of this product to add value. I did not put myself “on the hook” (as Godin would advocate) by orienting my work towards being of use to others.
While I wouldn’t describe my practice as generous, being radically honest about that aspect helped me cross the finish line in the end. I connected with my why — my reason for doing this in the first place — at the very beginning, and I owned the fact that I was writing for myself before others.
#5: Shipping in public.
Guarantee I would not have gone through with this if I hadn’t publicly shared this project from the very start. There is a healthy pressure after putting this goal out there and in the open, for anyone to check up on and see its progress (or lack thereof). The best decision I made was to rapid-fire set up a Substack as the official “home” for this writing.
#6: Going pro with Substack.
Credentialing wouldn’t have the power it does if we didn’t eagerly embrace our lack of a credential as the perfect place to hide. — Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 157)
What I love about Substack is the democratization of sharing our creative work. It offers accessible startup, ease of publishing, and greater chance of discoverability and connection than the heyday of blogging. It also has a way of making your publication feel “official.” There’s wisdom in dressing for the job you want; Substack can have that affect for any new publication out there.
You don’t need to be a “credentialed” writer to write. But there is a nice little boost when you feel professional in your practice.
#7: Setting the bar just high enough.
I intentionally set goals that would stretch me but not overwhelm me: 100 days, 100 essays, averaging 300 words each, in celebration of a unique and deeply personal moment in time. I made sure that catching up would be achievable. I didn’t lose the game just because I missed a day.
#8: Prioritizing mise en place from the beginning.
“A skilled chef will be certain to arrange her cooking supplies before firing the stove. All the ingredients will be chopped, measured, and laid out. This prevents last-minute urgencies, but even more than that, it gives her a chance to visualize what’s to come.
Seeing the tools and ingredients, ready to go, prepared with care, opens the door for intentional action.” — Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 185-186)
When I committed to this project, one of the first things I did was prep my writing space and systematize what I could. This included a highly customized editorial calendar in Notion, making it easy to return each day to a dedicated digital space to capture ideas, draft essays, and see the status of each piece. Notion templates streamlined the grunt work of preparing each Substack post.
I’m particularly excited to share my latest Notion template — because I feel like I’ve been road-testing it for ages. It’s been the single most important organization system that has kept my writing on track even during the craziest and most transformative period of my life.
In this template, available to Mind Brew’s paid subscribers:
A streamlined, all-in-one space to plan, draft, and organize your posts effortlessly
Substack-focused prompts and entries designed to make publishing a breeze
Custom tips and flexible ideas to help tailor the system to your unique creative process
Check out this accompanying post for access, along with a video walkthrough of this editorial system and how I adapted it for my Mom Brain writing sprint :)
If you put the effort into your practice, you will be rewarded with better. Better taste, better judgment, and better capabilities. — Seth Godin, The Practice: Shipping Creative Work (p. 103)
Now, I’d love to hear from you! If you enjoyed this week’s issue, please consider:
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Tapping the 💬 icon and sharing your favorite summer creation
Pick your favorite quote and hit restack 🔄
It was an imperfect practice, but so beautiful and meaningful in its unfolding. I ended up writing and polishing my essays right up until the early hours of labor with our son.