Microdosing a novel

Hey honeys and hustlers,

I wrapped up a two-week challenge writing 1,000 words a day from May 30–June 12. On paper, it sounds simple—maybe even small. A micro challenge. But in practice, it became a reset. Not just for my writing, but for how I wanted to move through the start of summer: with focus, consistency, and intention. My output for writing articles and social media posts is almost half of what it was last year, which naturally makes me self-conscious. I have intermittently been putting effort into narrative scripts and the print magazine for this newsletter, projects that have definitely taken energy and focus away from regular newsletter publishing. But in any case, I feel like I’m not writing enough, not publishing enough, not doing enough, and not worthy of your attention when I actually do post. While I technically know all of those things aren’t true, that doesn’t keep the feelings of doubt and imposter syndrome from creeping in. While I’m glad that I can stand by the quality of each article I publish, there’s still a part of me that wants to do more. So here’s a little reflection on what I learned, what I wrote, and why it mattered more than I expected.

I didn’t start this challenge because I had a perfectly outlined novel idea and a quiet cabin waiting for me. I started because I could feel the season changing, and I didn’t want to move through this change without taking the time to slow down and center myself. The goal wasn’t to write anything in particular, though I do have some narrative scripts and a magazine that are staring at me and begging for attention. The goal was to commit to writing something meaningful daily as I moved into a new season and new state (more on this later, maybe).

The funniest part is that I didn’t write one neat, linear project. I wrote like a person clearing space. Some days it was polished. Some days it was messy. Some days, it was just me showing up and typing until I realized I was way past the word count requirement.

Over the two weeks, I wrote:

What I wrote wasn’t the point. The practice was the point. Because I wrote every day, I reinforced an identity: I’m someone who keeps promises to myself and writes regularly. And the more I wrote, the less I was asking, Is this good? as much as I was asking, Is this honest? Is this useful? Is this moving? Is this mine? I don’t need to feed an algorithm with my writing for it to be meaningful and valuable. I just need to return to the page consistently, and whatever needs to come out of me will meet me there.

A thousand words is not an epic amount. It’s approachable. It’s a threshold you can cross even on an imperfect day, which meant I stayed in motion. If you’ve been waiting for a perfect moment to start something creative, consider this your permission slip to start small and start daily. Microdosing a novel (or a newsletter, or a script, or a messy page of notes) is still writing. And two weeks of showing up can do more than you think. It can give you back your focus. It can rebuild trust in yourself. It can kick off a season with intention instead of chaos. And sometimes that’s the whole point.