It was a struggle. Crazy Romanian kid, doing his best to write in a foreign language. A post every two or so days, maybe it wasn’t a lot, but it was taking me hours and hours of work, of editing, of doing my best, and yet still feeling as if there was more.
I could do more, I could do better.
A few months later, I was blogging on a daily basis. This was the dream; what I thought of as the pinnacle of blogging: one new blog post every single day. No days off. No time to celebrate, to act lazy, to grow complacent.
But then I decided that I wanted to more. I wanted to start a new blog, an online magazine dedicated to promoting aspiring artists.
I raised money, started a new website, learned all sorts of new things, wrote a few blog posts, said this was impossible, and quit.
You see, I had built myself a ceiling. A limit; self-imposed, born out of fear and nurtured by ignorance.
I was damn certain that no man could keep blogging on a daily basis on more than one blog.
But, you see, there were a couple of things I didn’t ask myself before deciding such a thing was impossible:
- Was there anyone on the face of the Earth capable of such a feat?
- How much could one man blog? How many words? How many posts? About how many different topics?
- If there was no one else, could I become the first one? Did I believe in myself enough to become such a person?
Do you want to know the truth?
A year ago I was writing some 10 blog posts every single day across three different blogs while promoting all three of them, going to the gym on a daily basis, and having enough time to eat, sleep, and even socialize.
But a few years ago, I didn’t believe I could blog on more than one website. I didn’t believe I could write and edit a blog post in an hour or so.
Limits are always, always, always self-imposed. Glass ceilings, as they say. And I broke through mine when I had to, not when I wanted to. I just had to write an awful lot of blog posts in 24 hours, because I was writing on borrowed equipment that had to be returned.
How many words could you write if you knew tomorrow you had to stop writing altogether?
Would you type faster?
Would you punch those damn keys?
I bet you would.
But it’s scary. To know that there are no ceilings. That your ceiling, your absolute best, is someone else’s warm-up.
How does it make you feel that I wrote posts that got thousands of likes in less than an hour? That I wrote them on the bus, or during a coffee break with friends?
It should inspire you.
One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.
I never thought it possible for a scrawny Romanian kid to write words that thousands and thousands of folks all over the world read on a daily basis.
I wanted it, I dreamed about it, but I just didn’t think it was possible.
But I just did what I thought was possible: write a blog post every few days. Then I did the improbable: writing a blog post every single day. And before I even knew it I was doing the impossible: punching those damn keys so fast that my past self would have thought it to be magic.