Posted in Of Bloggingly, Of Life's Dramedies, Of Philosophy, Of Psyche, Of Writingly

Of Consistency

Consistency is good, repetition is not. Practice is good, addiction(as I have discussed in a previous post) is not. We are a strange people with strange perspective on things. Nothing worth doing is of any value unless you are consistent with it. You gotta be consistent when you are in love with a person. If you have made a good first album, you have to be consistent and make another. And another. And another. No one really accuses prolific novelists, musicians or salesmen of addiction. These people just do the same thing again and again, whether they like it or not.

But what about one-hit wonders? Is it really all that bad? Imagine writing a really marvellous blog post, one that is closer to the truth than anything else on the internet. Would it really not be better to just stop there? It just gets hard to repeat success or improve upon failures. And if what you do only has a neutrality, where it is of value without being practically significant, is it worth it? Where is the motivation or point of that?

I have not wearied of writing blogs as yet. I have been doing it more or less everyday for 45 days and I am proud of what I have achieved. And I have more ideas of taking it further. Most of all, I am excited by it and I love doing it. However, sometimes it does feel like a chore. I may be having a dry spell and yet, because you have to be consistent in order to grow here, I feel obliged to post some not altogether inspired blogs. Consistency is the only justification here, for these posts rarely get any reads. And so, I wonder, is that a good thing after all?

My rather naive ambition for my life is to write one important book. Doesn’t have to be a success, but just worthwhile. This would be my answer if you asked me about what I would do if the end of the world, or only the termination of my existence was near. It is a silly ambition for I do not know, and can never have premonitions of, whether any number of books I write or not write can have any significance at all. So, which is wiser? To keep putting work out there waiting for any of them to do the trick? Or to keep working on that single perfection that may or may not come? Should I be consistent in my output or in my perfectionist striving?

Which really comes down to the question, is consistency human? Or is the drudgery that we have humanized, thinking that is the point of our lives? We have been a working culture since the dawn of industrialization. Yes, feudalism also required a lot of toil, but then we were so dependent on natural forces and the whims of human powers we could not control, that there was nothing else for the plebeian to do but roll with the punches. Now, when the world is relatively just, there is also greater paranoia for achieving our endless possibilities. We have to have jobs, education, hobbies, dreams, relationships and each one of them has to be in a different field of interest. We are trying to be Renaissance men and women where it isn’t a “rebirth” as it is the accumulation of all that the world can offer to a single modern plebeian to become as extraordinary as he/she envisions himself/herself to be. Now tell me that this isn’t applicable to your life. Now tell me that this comes naturally to you.

But I guess we will never know, will we? Our lives, our worlds are bigger than the 7 billion of us. Thomas Alva Edison, who brought us the man-made light, also brought light on the idea that nothing can be achieved unless we keep at it. Again and again and again, for that only brings us closer to success. There is no beginners’ luck, no randomness of genius. As the great descendant of Herman Melville, the appropriately named Moby sang, “We’re all made of stars.” We’re all geniuses.

Right, I am off to “writing” my book, my masterpiece now.


Writer, Blogger, Kate Bush Fanatic

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