A blog experiment by Brad Mills.



I am filled with self-doubt and arresting questions. I've reached an impasse on several creative fronts in my life, and my only hope is that the improving weather will warm me into motion as 2010 draws to a close.

I have this horrid urge to do some sort of a "year in review" thing and am equally opposed to it. It's a hackneyed road I've traveled far too many times, something which seems like a good idea at the time and always ends up sounding the same — this year I learned "x" and next year I'm going to try "y" if I get the chance.


Life brings you what it brings you, and you make a difference where you can and where you choose, in both your own life and the lives of others. That's it in a nutshell, really; it always has been. In that regard, the last days of the year are no different from some random day in August. As for setting resolutions: Decide what you want, decide what you'll sacrifice for it, and get busy.

My choice, I feel, is whether or not to listen to those nagging voices inside — the ones which were oddly absent throughout November and have since run rampant. "Oh, you wrote something bulky, maybe you should rest your mind awhile. Maybe another day. Maybe one more. Have you done your Christmas shopping? Have you checked Facebook lately? Is it trash night? The kids are up to no good, better check on them." This, too, is a well-worn path, a familiar one. Well, except for the "you wrote something bulky" part.

It did take a lot out of me, true. I'll admit that. But it was also rewarding. I'm glad I did it, I'm looking forward to tackling the next phase, and overall, it feels good to say I wrote 50,000 words in one month. And I've been wanting to say that for awhile now, but I fear boring the handful of people who read this goofy blog — "Egads, he's talking about that damn book again. Let's see what's on HBO."

Honestly, I think the problem is I don't feel very comfortable with that "writer" label. I'm not sure why this is. It's no different from saying "I'm a father" or "I'm a bricklayer." (Actually I'm not a bricklayer, so I guess that is pretty different.) Ultimately it's just another word, another label to hang up next to my picture with an arrow pointing from it to me. No big deal, right?

So there you go. There's my little piece of humanity for today, exposed for all to see, and for the vultures to pick at. Now excuse me while I go hide again.

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