72,961. That’s how many words I’ve published on this blog in the past year.

That’s a book — not a big one, but bigger than some. And while I’ve teased the idea of writing one, the prospect intimidates me. Still, one year of daily writing and I’ve written the equivalent word count of the average novel.

Many people have told me that I should write a book. And I suppose I have enough stories to fill one. But the concept is intimidating.

The biggest problem is that I have the hyperactive mind of a Border Collie. I chase squirrels.

Writing a book — a good one at least — is a multi-year commitment. And I don’t want to waste months of effort on something I might leap from at the first thought of a shiny new idea.

The difference is the format. Over the past year, I’ve written 365 random articles. A year’s worth of thoughts is not book-worthy. They’re a collection of ideas that happened to be on my mind in the moment when I sat down to type.

Whether in my office, at a cafe, or on my lunch break at work — I tapped out my thoughts on the keyboard. But random thoughts aren’t the same as telling a story.

Book talk aside, this practice of daily writing has been incredible. It’s been a lesson in discipline and creativity.

When I committed to this practice, I doubted myself. At the time, I typically wrote more long-form articles — the kind that I worked on for days or weeks before sharing.

With this daily practice, I knew that I would have to change my style, or at least shift gears for a while. There’s no way that I could write 1000+ words daily while holding down a full-time job and a freelancing business on the side.

Even then, when I was used to publishing something once every few weeks or so, the idea of writing something different every day intimidated the hell out of me.

And writing was the easy part. What stressed me most was the idea of thinking of a new topic each day.

The funny part is that not only have I posted every day for the last year, I have dozens of topics sitting in my to-write folder. The most challenging part of this practice hasn’t been thinking of topics or the act of writing — it was feeling done.

A daily deadline provided limited time for edits and multiple drafts. I had to hit publish, regardless of whether I felt that it was good enough.

This was where I learned an important lesson on clarity.

I can’t count the number of times that I didn’t clarify my thoughts. I look back at these posts and cringe at the fact that I didn’t get my point across as I had intended. However, over time, I’ve learned that this is part of being a writer.

This is why I’m trying to stop putting a caveat on anything that might lead to confusion. Even the most well-calculated article will be subject to scrutiny. Sometimes the most important thing is to just share the thought, regardless of what criticism might come.

That said, I like clarity — and not just for the reader. Much of the time when I write, I’m learning. I’m either solidifying thoughts that already exist or I’m researching as I go to avoid looking like a fool.

I learn through this process. It’s why I occasionally write about potent topics such as artificial intelligence or the conflict in Israel-Palestine. I start with a fairly solid understanding of the topic, but by writing about it I am forced into the nuances. I gain a deeper understanding through the process.

This is why I like taking time to write articles. Not only do I want my words to be clear, I want the peripheral benefits that come with the process of writing. If that means taking a week or a month to finish a post, so be it. The content I’m most proud of on this blog are the articles that have taken the longest time to craft. These are the articles that I’ve revisited — editing and tweaking the details, fact-checking my sources and tuning what I intend to convey.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve written plenty of short posts that get my point across, but even with these, I’ve left out context and detail. And while Seth Godin might tell me that these things aren’t always necessary, I prefer clarity over ambiguity.

Much of my talk of this practice here is in the past tense. There’s a chance things might be different as I move forward. I wrote about this back in September. I will certainly continue to write daily, and with any luck will post daily. But I am removing my daily deadline.

For me, right now, I write better when I’m not forced to publish. My long-form work is the stuff that I’m most proud of. The stuff that my overthinking, imposter syndrome mind is finally happy with after weeks of edits and revisions.

Deadlines force me to work. I am incredibly proficient at hitting them — and sometimes they’re what I need to get over my procrastination. But the pressure I placed on myself to write, edit and publish a blog every single day has given me many moments of unwarranted anxiety.

Writing aside, this might be the only daily habit I’ve ever truly committed to. I try to adopt the idea of allowing one’s self to skip a day — but never two in a row. Whether it be running, going to the gym, stretching or meditating, the concept is a solid one. It’s nearly impossible to do something every single day. So allowing a grace day helps.

However, life happens. There are countless things that interfere with one’s ability to act. Living makes many daily habits nearly impossible to keep 100% of the time. I’ve gone days without exercise or mindfulness practice. These habits are hard to form and even easier to break.

Writing is the only habit that I’ve held almost steady. As for daily publishing, I’ve only missed twice — and I’ve made up for it by posting double.

For 365 days, I’ve published written content online.

I like writing. It’s one of my favourite things to do. Even if I don’t publish everything, the process is therapeutic. I have thousands of words in drafts collecting dust on my computer, half-written articles that will likely never be seen by anyone. But I’m glad that I wrote them.

Much like journalling, the process of writing clears the mind. And a chaotic mind like mine needs a lot of clearing.

This isn’t to say that I plan on taking a break. If the ideas continue to arrive, and time allows, then I will continue to publish daily. But I won’t feel the pressure to do so.

I am proud of myself for following through with this commitment. A year ago I didn’t believe that I could stick with it. But here I am.

And to you, thank you for your continued curiosity in the nonsense that spills from my mind.