Excuses are really bad stories.

Excuses are really bad stories, tending to be lies wrapped in truth. Or half truths wrapped in emotion. The incredible thing about excuses is that even though they are not real, we make ourselves believe them, and sometimes share that belief with the rest of the world.

Here on medium I wrote on a daily basis for the first third of this year. Over 100 posts to my name, all pertaining to lessons I’ve learned through my reading habit. The beginning of summer my production of posts slowed to a complete halt. Lately I haven’t published once per month. What gives?

I told myself a bad story, and I believed it.

Practicing writing has become a daily habit for me. I have filled journals with dated pages to prove this. In the morning I write down dreams in a dream journal, followed by a page (or three) in a personal journal. I revisit this personal journal and write 1–3 times a day. Morning, midday, and just before bed.

When my publishing habit took a dive, I rationalized the situation.

I was still practicing my writing. Besides, I had just started a new day job, moved to a new city, and had a company to work on. There just wasn’t a reason to be publishing daily!

What a crap story.

There are all the reasons in the world to be publishing daily!

Revisiting lessons learned from my readings, reinforcing the lessons within my own mind, sharing the knowledge I learned, and putting my name out there for future opportunities. Most importantly, I would be reinforcing the habit of daily writing and publishing.

Instead I told myself a bad story, an excuse.

Little white lies wrapped in a convenient rational wrapper. How many rationalized “excuses” are we all dealing with?

“A poor excuse is better than none.” A saying my grandfather, born 1909, would repeat frequently. I never met my grandfather, so I have not been able to discuss with him the meaning behind this phrase. I imagine it is said in a sarcastic tone, passively stating to the listener, “Listen, I get it, you’ve got yourself an excuse. You don’t need to rationalize your excuses to me. I know you’re full of it.”

If we are unable to be honest with ourselves how are we to be honest with others?

Excuses are inherently dishonest.

I have told myself, “I’m not publishing daily because I’m practicing my writing via written journals.” While it is true I have practiced writing via hand written journals, how was that stopping me from publishing daily?

Maybe I don’t have the time to write and publish. False, most of my blog posts were written in ~30 minutes. This speaks to their quality, but quality is no excuse. Perfection is the death of productivity.

Why haven’t I been publishing daily?

Answering this question provides many opportunities to beat myself up. There are multiple answers to this question. Each answer is rooted in decisions I have made, and responsibilities I have not owned up to. All the answers are rooted in one word: fear.

Fear.

Fear of what? That no one will read my words? Guess what, no one is reading my journals. Fear of criticism? I grew up playing online games, berated by online bullies. What are a bunch of words on a screen going to mean to my personal outlook on life? There will always be naysayers and criticizers. On medium most “negative” responses to posts are either meant as constructive or can be used constructively. Criticism is my opportunity to learn faster and grow faster.

As rational as our excuses my be, they are built on a foundation of irrational fears. How could I let a fear of words on a screen, pixels in my eyes, affect my desire to practice an art form I have fallen in love with?

How many others are not practicing the art they love due to irrational fears? Too many.

I love writing. It has been a tool for me, aiding my mind to stay focused on what matters to me in life. Reminding myself to be grateful for this amazing world we live in, and to not get caught up in the fear filled stories we humans have become addicted to.

We all have two choices in life, love or fear.

Love doesn’t always mean comfort, enjoyment, or even happiness. There are struggles involved with love, as anyone in a deeply committed relationship could tell you. I choose to learn my way through these struggles, because a life of struggle in the name of love is worth living. A life of fear is not a life at all.

I have much to learn in the art of writing. And though these posts may never be read, posting them is an integral part of my practice.