2020 is yet another boring Writing Big Year

In 2015 I turned 60 and promised myself a decade of different annual obsessions or challenges, calling them Big Years. I had some grandiose aims conjured out of thin air. Some of the 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019 Big Years have been huge successes, others have been effective but underwhelming, and some have chafed rather than inspired.

I’m demonstrably a failure at my most heartfelt aspiration, to be a “successful” writer, although nothing seems to have dimmed that aspiration. Over the last five years, then, writing has continued to chew up a huge portion of my waking hours. Naturally, I’ve tried to make writing a central thrust of those “Big Years.” The 2016 Writing Big Year, the 2017 Writing Big Year, the 2018 1,000 Big Year (i.e. 1,000 words a day), and the 2019 Author Big Year were each attempts to instil measurable writing disciplines, day in and day out, that deliver authorial productivity. All of them helped me immensely. None of them produced the miracles I hoped for. So when 2020 began, I decided to forego any form of writing or publishing or authorly “big year.”

Well, Coronavirus has turned our lives around. I’ve abandoned a Parkrun Big Year, although I’m jogging. I’ve abandoned a Rebellion Big Year, although I’m as active as lockdown permits in Extinction Rebellion. Four months into the year, what does the future look like? Well, strangely enough, the rest of 2020 and the whole of 2021 presage a lack of travel (dampening other hobbies and another big writing project) and a much “quieter” life. Guess what those conditions are fertile ground for? Writing, that’s what.

So I’m calling the rest of 2020 a Writing Big Year, the same old title for a slightly differently organized life. The nuclear history project is the urgent target and I’m going to mimic the recent lockdown existence by committing to 6 hours a day, nearly all in the morning before noon chimes, hammering out book chapters. (I’ll target another 20 hours per week on other writing projects/work.) This is boring, routine stuff and I’ll post regularly about it, just as a way of talking “motivation talk” to myself. Grand times with Pam, plus other writing work, plus activism, plus grandparenting to the max, plus regular exercise, plus some walking/hiking, plus a cultural life, plus a social/food/wine life … all these will fill out the days, but in essence the next eight months are a slogging, absorbed, wonderful tilt at finishing the “never-ending nuclear project.” This 2020 Writing Big Year … please wish me luck.

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