Some people who have a lot to offer the internet feel too much doubt to write and publish it. Ashley Willis wrote a great post about this.

Even though I publish here every day, I identify with this group of people. I’ve written for over 1,000 days now. Sometimes, for me, it feels like the practice is a bad day away from falling apart. The pressure is on.

For God’s sake, I’ve written a book about this, I say to myself. Sometimes, my internal monologue feels like punishment. You’re just too slow. Your blog posts are so bad. Worse—useless! No wonder nobody takes you seriously as a writer. Nobody reads blogs in 2025, so this is so stupid. Shouldn’t you be making money? Why are you writing another blog post about writing?!

I know none of this is true, of course. The emotions are still intense, and that moment of mindfulness takes the edge off. They’re statements that come up in my brain. I breathe.

Like the rest of us, I do the emotional labor of working through this doubt, getting out of the habit of talking myself out of publishing, all the while not being too hard on myself about not publishing. 

We need to be disciplined enough to show up, gentle and mindful enough not to injure ourselves.

The only way out is through, at your own pace. While some people don’t need to publish every day to maintain energy, I do. Finishing a blog post charges my battery. That’s why I want to do it every day, I remind myself. My life’s task is to write. If I’m writing—wherever, for whomever, however—I am doing my life’s task.

As long as I can keep remembering that, and let go of what I hope might happen, or whether this is a good use of time, or how useful I can be, or or or… 

And focus on showing up and being present, then I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.