8 Pitfalls of Publishing Daily for 322 Days Online
Here’s what’s left off the label.
Have you ever committed to a publishing challenge?
It’s more intense than a writing challenge. Writing challenges give you the freedom to write and save to drafts. What a relief! Publishing challenges are not as easy as Penguin’s Happy Feet skating across ice.
Toss in the need for quality. You’re in an ant’s nest of overwhelm. No worries, though. Quantity leads to quality, right? Right?!
If you wonder why daily writing or publishing doesn’t work for you, here are 8 ideas I’ve picked up from my first consistent year of writing.
1. Missed online and missed at home is different.
When people miss you online, you’re replaceable.
When your family misses you, no filler comes close.
People will visit your page with high hopes for a new post. Afterward, they’ll stop. Some visit less. Some never return — except if viral pieces land you on their screen. When you’re consistent again? The time regulars have for your work drops like tiny sprinkles over an ice cream sundae.
Diversify your income, traffic source, and channels for receiving attention.
2. It’s a life for the privileged.
I’ve never seen a researcher publish every day unless they’re a unicorn.
Enter the advantages of being:
- self-employed.
- a remote worker.
- unafraid to share personal stories.
- a stay-at-home parent
- a student
Try as you may. You might never create enough time to bang out an article (you’re proud to share) of even 300–500 words daily. Change how you view writing and publishing. Publishing daily is a mental gym. You can skip the building. But once your move you’re sure to get your steps in.
3. Ruthless intolerance to self-judgement.
You’ll need to see the light at the tunnel’s end right from day one. What are your thoughts as a daily publisher?
- Today’s cringe post will disappear faster from sight (plus improves) IF I keep posting.
- My experience is valid. My experience from my weird life is better than the lifeless BS guru's chant.
- Someone needs my odd perspective.
If you’re afraid to type, you’ll view publish as the most sinister button. You are your first and loudest critic — switch to cheerleading.
4. Save gratitude for your journal. Share scars in public.
People love stories. This notion doesn’t mean the story told has to be yours.
Charli D’Amelio cosplayed the working class. Do you not feel “some type” of way? Have you ever wondered who earns more? Is it the people who wake up at 4 a.m. or after 10 a.m.? Is your curiosity itchy, burning you up with energy to find the answer and write about it?
Writing is first for you. Then, for the reader.
When you believe your words are worth typing, you finish the piece.
5. Numbers are what you make them.
Hope is fertilizer. Check your insights for research purposes only.
If you take your numbers personally, you’ll stop publishing. And just like that, you’ll stop looking for the internet’s well-hidden oasis.
6. The blank you didn’t consider.
You’ve received warnings about blank pages. No one can edit those. They are also overwhelming to fill — so begin with a template.
But the worst blank of all? A life mislabeled as boring.
You’ve lived. You’ve outgrown relationships and turned your back on traditional life models. Yet, you believe your life is uninteresting. Once you invalidate your experiences, it’s harder than ever to think your opinions are worth sharing with the world.
7. Prioritizing out, not in.
You can’t make time.
You can create time for what you focus on. If you only rank publishing, you’ll forget the importance of idea collection. Pouring content from a limited mind leads to burnout. And greater friction with blank pages.
8. Avoid labeling any article as a failure.
Normies run from failure.
But every article has golden gems. If you ignore the initial quiet, you will revamp headlines, intros, or cover images. You’ll go on to publish a stream of articles based on the same idea until you find your community.
You overcome hardships when you don’t claim struggle.
Instead, you leave the label slot blank for optimistic endings.