Might as well get these out of the way on Day 1.

I’m not ready for this month. I haven’t prepared topics or set aside time. I’m still in the middle of the book I meant to finish before March, and it’s due at the library, so I need to prioritize that. I didn’t manage to finish marking all those essays I swore I’d finish before the March challenge started, and now I might never find the time… or at least not until April. The students will suffer.

I’ll never have time to comment on as many other posts as I want to. I might miss someone. I’ll miss my “regular” blog buddies. What if my comments are boring? What if I don’t say enough? I should spend time on my students, not these random teachers I’ve never even meant. How is this useful? Why am I even doing this?

I’ve already learned everything I needed to learn from writing every day – this is indulgent – or time-consuming – or something. My partner calls this “Hell month” then, when I object, he threatens to record me saying how much I love this month and play it back to me on, say, March 25th. I glare at him. Writing every day just to prove my partner wrong is probably the wrong motivation.

I forgot to write and now it’s late at night. It’s too personal. It’s not personal enough. I don’t have anything new to say. I don’t have anything to say. Who wants to read this anyway? This piece stinks. I’m not a writer. I think I actually hate everything I’ve ever written. 

What if ________ reads this? What if no one reads this? What if everyone reads this?

What if I’m no good? What if I’m too much? What if I’m not enough? What if I mess up?

What if I do this? What if I write? What if I enjoy myself? What if writing is fun? What if I find a community that lifts me up? What if this is just what I need?

I’ve done this before; I’m ready; this is just what I need. March, I’ve been waiting for you. 31 posts in 31 days. I’ve got this.