The Challenge of a Challenge

This summer, I participated in an Instagram photo challenge and posted 50 days of summer photos. Why? Good question. 

It began as a challenge to do a challenge. I’d seen lots of 100-day challenges for artists and writers but was afraid that if I did one, I’d fail. I know something about setting oneself up for failure and wasn’t going to go down that road. However, the idea of a shorter challenge intrigued me. If nothing else, it would be a good experiment. 

I chose a summer challenge because living at nearly 10K feet means summer is short. It’s almost sacred. And like a bear, I come out of my cave, and I go. I write and art and play. I spend much time with my family and cook huge amounts of food. I drink and revel and go to concerts. I hike with my dog. I boat and swim and garden my flowers. I increase my volunteer time. I wake early to write. I’m up late to art. I am a different creature. A 50-day summer challenge seemed easy enough to complete. 

It wasn’t. 

In the beginning, posting was fun! I culled my photos and found my favorites. I loved hearing from others. I followed new people and learned more about everything. But as time wore on, a discomfort emerged. Posting took time away from living in the present moment. I didn’t like being tied to my phone. It seemed too much in all ways, including the privilege it was to post photos every day. I began to cringe. I almost quit. But like writing a novel, the experience rounded itself out. By completing the 50 days, I had to sit with discomfort and trust in the experience. Posting didn’t drive billions of people to my Patreon account or my website. But I did learn from a community interested in similar work. My expectations and goals shifted. Finally, I let go of the idea of “challenges” altogether. 

I’ll continue at my old pace—posting here and there—sometimes for myself, sometimes for my work. I’ll keep a keen eye on my colleagues’ projects and encourage them on. Experiments help us grow. It’s not about success or failure. It’s about the process.  

5 Parallels Between the Reasons to Vote and the Reasons to Write

Yes! Oh No! After an election, voters may feel a tirade of emotions, including elation, anger, sadness, joy, or disgust. Much like writers careening through their journeys, voters ride an emotional roller coaster every two to four years. And although the darker moments can be draining, neither the voter nor the writer should quit. Ever.

A vote in the United States is exactly what defines our country. Freedom. The right to express oneself was hard-earned—for Blacks, for women, and for the white men escaping the king’s laws during the dawn of our democracy. Voting is a privilege and a responsibility, but it’s more than that. Voting is voice.

A writer, too, has voice. Words on the page are executed, hopefully, with passion and organization. Not every writing piece will be well received. Not every candidate will win. Rejection and losing stink. But it is what makes a writer, a person, and a country grow. After a devastating loss, there are two choices: to quit or to pick up the pieces and persevere. So goes it for a well-seasoned writer.

Below are five parallels between the reasons to vote and the reasons to write.

Reasons to Vote

1. your vote is your voice—you do make a difference
2. votes lead to policies that will affect your community
3. it is your right and responsibility
4. prevent fascism and corruption
5. become empowered and heard

Reasons to Write

1. your writing is your voice—you do make a difference
2. writing leads to words that will affect your community
3. it is your passion and your prayer
4. prevent junk reads and fake news
5. become empowered and heard

Non-action never wins.